lEx  Htbrtfi 


SEYMOUR    DURST 


~t '  'Tort  nteiitv    ^>4m/ftrd<m  of  Je  Mtrnhatatus 


When  you  leave,  please  leave  this  book 

Because  it  has  been  said 
"Ever  thing  comes  t'  him  who  waits 

Except  a  loaned  book." 


Avery  Architectural  and  Fine  Arts  Library 
Gift  of  Seymour  B.  Durst  Old  York  Library 


Th*         ity   College 


:iate 


t  the 


Philip  J. 

The  New  College 

From  the  design  by  the  Architect.  George   B    Post 


New  York  and   London 
Ebe  "Knickerbocker  pi 


THe   City  College 

Memories   of  Sixty   Years 

Edited  for  the 

Associate   Alumni 

of 

The  College  of  the  City  of  New  York 

By 

Philip  J.  Mosenthal,  M.S.,  '83 

and 
Charles  F.  Home,  Ph.D.,  '89 


G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  and   London 

Cbe  fcntcfcerbocfcer  press 

1907 


Copyright,  1907 

BY 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


•Cbc  IRnicfccrbocfccr  press,  IWcw  !3orh 


At  the  annual  business  meeting  of  the  Associate 
Alumni  of  the  College  of  the  City  of  New  York,  held 
October  20,  1905,  it  was  determined  by  resolution  to 
publish  a  memorial  volume  to  record  the  life  and  history 
of  the  old  College  at  the  time  of  the  change  to  new 
conditions  in  the  new  buildings  on  St.  Nicholas  Heights. 
To  carry  on  this  work,  a  committee  was  appointed 
consisting  of  the  members  of  the  Alumni  below  men- 
tioned. Messrs.  Mosenthal  and  Home  of  the  committee 
were  designated  as  editors. 

Philip  J.   Mosexthal,  '83,   Chairman. 

Richard  R.  Bowker,  '68, 

Ferdinand  Shack,  '74, 

Charles  F.  Horne,  '89. 


0<\ 


Contents 


PAGE 

The  Spirit  of  the  College — Proem       .  .  .  .       xv 

Philip  J.  Mosenthal,  M.S.,  '83. 


IRcspice 


The  College  of  the  Past     ......         3 

Richard  R.  Bowker,  A.B.,  '68. 

The  First  President       .  .  .  .  .  .  .67 

Everett  P.  Wheeler,  A.M.,  LL.B.,  '56. 

The  First  Faculty      .......       87 

Alfred  G.  Compton,  A.  M.,  '53. 

Acting  President,  C.  C.  X.  Y..  1906-1907. 

The  Second  President         ......      107 

Charles  E.  Lydecker,  B.S.,  LL.B.,  '71. 

The  Later  Faculty     .....  .      139 

Adolph   Werner,   M.S.,   Ph.D.,   '57. 

Professor  of  German,  C.  C.   X.  Y. 

The  Life  of  the  College  ..... 

The  Beginnings  .....      159 

James  R.  Steers,  A.B.,  LLB„  '53. 
v 


vi  Contents 


The  Life  of  the  College   (continued) 

The  Early  Sixties      .....      204 

Ira  Remsen,  A.B.,  M.D.,  Ph.D.,  LL.D.,  '65. 

President  of  Johns  Hopkins  University. 

After  the  War  .  .  .  .  .221 

John  R.  Sim,  A.B.,  '68. 

Professor  of  Mathematics,  C.  C.  X.  Y. 

The  Change  from  the  Free  Academy  .      239 

Robert  Abbe.  A.B.,  M.D.,  '70. 

Lecturer  on  Surgery,  Columbia  University. 

The  Later  Seventies  ....      252 

Lewis   Sayre   Burchard,   A.B.,   LL.B.,   '77. 

The  Eighties      ......      302 

Lewis  Freeman  Mott,  M.S.,  Ph.D.,  '83. 
Professor  of  English,  C.  C.  N.Y. 

The  Early  Nineties  .....     321 
Arthur  Guiterman,  A.B.,  '91. 

Under  Changing  Rule        ....     337 
Howard  C.  Green,  AM.,  '02. 

The  Present  System  ....      352 

James  Ambrose  Farrell,  '07. 

President  of  the  Students'  Council. 

The  College  in  the  Civil  War    .....     367 

Henry  E.  Tremain.  A.B.,  LL.B.,  '60. 

Brevet  Brigadier-General  U.  S.  Vols. 

Charles  F.  Horne,  M.S.,  Ph.D.  '89 

Assistant  Professor  of  English,  C.  C.  X.  Y. 

Russell  Sturgis,   A.M.,   Ph.D.,    '56. 

Professor  of  Architecture,  C.  C.  X.  Y.,  1878-1883. 

Richmond  B.  Elliott,  A.M.,  M.D.,  '59. 


Contents  vii 

PAGE 

Tin-:  Literary  Societies       .  .  .  .  .  419 

Edward  M.  Colib,  AH.,  '73. 

President  of  the  Associate  Alumni,  C.  C.  X.  Y. 

Theodore  Tilton,  '55. 

College  Journalism  ......      441 

Julius  M.   Mayer,  A.B.,  LL.B.,  '84. 

Former  Attorney  General  of  the  State  of  New  York. 

Lewis  Sayre  Burchard,  A.B..  LL  B.,  '77. 
And  the  Editors. 

The  Fraternities         .......     477 

Frank  Keck,  B.S.,  LL.B.,  '72. 

The  Songs  of  C.  C.  X.  Y 487 

Henry  E.  Jenkins,  B.S.,  LL.B.,  '75. 

Principal  of  Public  School  171,  New  York  City. 

Hfcspice 

The  College  of  the  Present   .....  543 

John  Huston  Finley,  LL.D. 
President  of  the  College. 


Iprospice 

The  College  of  the  Future         .....      559 

Edward  Morse  Shepard,  A.B.,  LL.D.,  '69, 

Chairman  of  the  Trustees  of  the  College. 


Illustrations 

PAGE 

The  New  College     .......     Frontispiece 

From  the  design  by  the  architect,  George    B    Post 

The  Old  College 5 

The  Lexington  Avenue  Facade ,  9 

The  Lexington  Avenue  Front 13 

The  Lexington  Avenue  Entrance 17 

Basement  Hall  from  Lexington  Avenue    ...  21 

The  Janitor's  Office 25 

The  Janitor's  Apartments 29 

The  Twenty-third  Street  Entrance       ....  33 

The  Inside  View  of  the  Students'  Entrance    .      .  37 

The  Basement  Corridor,  Looking  South     ...  41 

A  Snap- Shot  of  the  Third  President     ....  45 

The  Engine  Room 49 

The  Engineer's  Apartments 53 

First-Floor  Corridor.  Looking  South     ....  57 

The  First-Floor  Corridor,  Looking  toward  the 

Librarv    ....            61 


IX 


x  Illustrations 

PAGE 

President  Horace  Webster 69 

The  Library  Corridor,  Looking  East    ....  73 

The  Library,  West  End 77 

The  Secretary's  Office 81 

The  First  Faculty 89 

The  President's  Office,  Looking  North       ...  93 

President's  Office. — The  Judgment  Seat   ...  97 

Corridor,  First  Floor,  Looking  North         .      .      .  10 1 

President  Alexander  S.  Webb 109 

A  Fraternity  Corner  in  the  Main  Hall    .      .      .      .  113 

Corridor,  First  Floor,  Looking  North   .      .      .      .  117 

Civil  War  Memorial  Tablet 121 

A  Fraternity  Corner 125 

The  Chemical  Lecture  Room 129 

A  Chemistry  Lecturer 133 

The  Later  Faculty 141 

The  Faculty  Room 145 

The  Later  Faculty 149 

The  Chemical  Library 153 

The  Research  Laboratory 161 

At  Work  in  the  Research  Laboratory        .      .      .  165 

The  Students'  Laboratory 169 

The  Second-Floor  Corridor 173 

The  Ichthyosaurus 177 

The  Latin  Room 181 


Illustrations  xi 

PAGE 

Clionia  Session 185 

The  Greek  Room 189 

Phrenocosmia  in  Session 193 

The  Repository 197 

The  French  Room 201 

Room  Five 205 

Room  Three 209 

The  Drawing  Room 213 

A  Lecture  in  the  Drawing  Room 217 

Professor  Anthon's  Historical  Cabinet       .      .      .  223 

The  History  Room          227 

The  Third-Floor  Corridor 231 

The  Old  Drinking  Fountain 235 

The  Philosophy  Room 241 

The  English  Room 245 

Professor  Hunt's  Room 249 

The  Large  Mathematics  Room,  Number  Twenty- 
one   253 

A  Board  in  the  Mathematics  Room      .      .      .      .  257 

The  Smaller  Mathematics  Room 261 

The  Old  German  Room 265 

The  Mechanical  Society 269 

Apparatus  Room  of  the  Physics  Department  .      .  273 

Prof.  Compton  in  his  Workshop 277 

The  South  Chapel  Stairs 281 


xii  Illustrations 

PAGE 

The  Chapel,  Looking  East 285 

The  Class  of  '05 289 

The  College  Orchestra 293 

A  Corner  Room  in  the  Chapel 297 

One  of  the  Small  Rooms  off  the  Chapel     .      .      .  305 

The  Clionian  Library 311 

The  Workshop  Looking  South 317 

The  Workshop 323 

The  Workshop,  Carpentering  Room     .      .      .      .  329 

The  Workshop,  Forge  Room 335 

The  Workshop,  the  Engine 341 

The  Workshop,  the  Molding  Shop 347 

The  Entrance  from  the  Yard 353 

The  Yard  and  the  Bridge  of  Sighs        ...      .359 

The  Yard  Looking  West 369 

Senior  Mechanical  Class 373 

The  Twenty-Second  Street  Annex              .      .  379 

The  Entrance  to  the  Bridge  of  Sighs    ....  385 

Lower  Hall  of  Twenty-Second  Street  Building  391 

The  Latest  Addition 397 

Microscopic  Examination  in  Room  G,  under  Dr. 

Bryan 405 

The  College  Mercury  Editorial  Room    .      .      .      .  411 

The  Natural  History  Hall 419 

The  Natural  History  Hall.  Platform    ....  423 


Illustrations  xiii 

PAGE 

The  Natural  History  Hall 429 

A  Corner  of  the  Natural  History  Hall     .      .       -435 

A  Corner  of  the  Natural  History  Hall       .      .      .  443 

Dissecting  Work 449 

Professor  Stratford  in  his  Office 455 

The  Department  of  Physics 461 

The  Department  of  German 465 

The  Latin  Department 471 

The  Department  of  Greek 481 

The  Department  of  History 489 

The  Department  of  Natural  History    ....  495 

The  Department  of  Philosophy 501 

The  French  Department 507 

The  Department  of  Chemistry 513. 

The  Department  of  Drawing 519 

The  Department  of  Mathematics 525 

The  Department  of  English 529 

The  Chellborg  Bakery 533 

Prof.  Alfred  S.  Compton 537 

President  John  H.  Finley 545 

The  Annex 549 

The  Turrets  and  Spires 553 

The  New  College 561 


The  Spirit  of  the  College 

Philip  J.  Mosenthal,  '83 
Proem 

"PHIS  book  has  come  to  be  because  it  seems  right 
that  we  make  a  record  of  the  spirit  of  the  old 
College  before  it  become  merged  into  the  larger  spirit 
of  the  new.  A  larger  spirit,  yes,  but  not  a  deeper  one. 
You  of  generations  now  beginning  will  have  wider  op- 
portunities; perhaps  you  will  learn  more  things;  you 
must  learn  them  differently,  you  cannot  help  doing 
so.  Since  the  day  of  many  of  us,  and  not  of  the 
oldest,  men  have  learnt  how  to  apply  electricity  and 
to  teach  psychology  with  a  yard-stick. 

The  economic  and  the  social  world  must  change  or 
stagnate.  The  world  of  the  spirit  endures  and  still 
strives  for  the  ideals  descended  from  the  marble  halls 
of  Athens  and  the  stable  of  Bethlehem. 

These  ideals  were  given  us  by  the  mothers  of  our 
bodies;  they  were  fostered  by  the  Benign  Mother  who 
gave  us  intellectual  life.  Our  strength  and  our  loyal 
service  are  theirs ! 

With  this  feeling  of  thankfulness  I  would  try  to  in- 


xvi  The  Spirit  of  the  College 

terpret  the  spirit  of  our  College.  There  are  many  who 
would  see  differently  and  write  better;  the  errors  will 
be  those  of  love  and  gratitude. 

The  spirit  of  the  old  College  will  live  on  deep  in  the 
lives  and  achievements  of  some  thousands  of  hard- 
working, clear-thinking,  and  straight-living  citizens  of 
this  mother  of  cities.  They  have  worked  hard  because 
that  is  what  the  College  taught  them  if  it  never  taught 
anything  else.  They  have  thought  clearly  be- 
cause they  were  trained  by  a  body  of  the  best,  pure 
teachers  a  lot  of  boys  ever  had  the  good  luck  to  learn 
from — teachers  who  had  no  other  mission  but  to  teach. 
They  have  lived  straight  because  the  inspiration  of 
their  early  manhood  came  from  men  to  whom  right 
living  was  a  religion. 

•  This  republic  was  founded  by  men  who  worked  and 
were  free  and  by  the  work  of  freemen  it  must  endure. 
By  teaching  us  to  toil  for  success  and  that  success 
for  the  individual  and  the  commonwealth  comes  through 
toil,  we  were  fitted  to  be  citizens. 

As  the  boys,  or  most  of  them,  came  to  work,  so  the 
teachers  stayed  to  teach.  Did  we  ever  realize  or  un- 
derstand the  sacrifice  of  achievement,  the  loss  of 
the  chance  of  fame  as  the  world  counts  it  that  lay 
in  that  persistent,  painstaking  teaching?  Rarely  less 
than  four  hours  of  actual  instruction  each  day  and 
hours  more  of  preparation  and  incidental  work — no 
teachers  in  any  college  in  the  land  have  done  more. 
Fortunately,  few  have  to  do  as  much.     What  books 


The  Spirit  of  the  College  xv» 

are  unwritten,  what  scientific  research  is  unfinished 
because  the  brain  grew  weary,  and  time  was  not  left 
after  the  hard  pounding  hour  after  hour  to  make  boys 
understand!  This  is  the  debt  we  owe  them,  this  is 
what  they  gave  for  us.  Our  lives,  our  characters,  our 
successes  are  the  product.  Was  it  worth  while?  They 
must  judge  from  the  heights  of  duty  done,  from  the 
deeps  of  unfulfilled  ambition.  We  can  but  thank 
them. 

Thev  say  that  the  men  of  to-day  are  to  have  a 
better  chance.  So  be  it.  Whatever  you  do,  you  of  the 
new  College,  give  your  men  time  to  do  their  work! 

But  we  played  too.  Curious,  is  it  not?  We  did 
not  come  to  College  for  a  good  time  but  we  managed 
to  have  it.  We  did  not  come  because  it  was  the 
thing  our  world  demanded  of  us  so  that  we  might 
prove  our  respectability,  and  nevertheless,  perhaps 
we  have  proved  it. 

We  never  had  a  paid  coach,  but  we  played  football, 
we  boated,  we  did  the  things  that  boys  with  healthy 
bodies  must  do.  We  rarely  won  matches,  indeed  we 
did  not  often  have  the  chance  to  try.  But  we  played 
the  game,  whatever  it  was,  for  the  game's  sake.  Some 
important  institutions  are  just  beginning  to  remember 
that  that  is  what  the  game  is  for.  Did  the  boys  who 
ran  races  on  the  new  avenues  to  the  northward — they 
are  now  in  the  heart  of  town — or  who  played  football 
in  a  vacant  lot  get  less  health  and  less  of  the  keen 
joy    of    living    because   no    stadium   full    of    cheering 


xviii  The  Spirit  of  the  College 

thousands  spurred  them  on  to  win  ?  Thev  played  with 
tense  muscles  and  full,  deep  breathing  and  with  a 
great  joy.     And  they  won  when  they  could. 

I  think  that  we  have  always  had  less  trouble  in 
keeping  together  our  literary  societies  than  our  Ath- 
letic Association.  Has  it  been  said  that  we  were 
weaklings? 

The  victories  of  an  earlier  generation  of  our  athletes 
are  worth  recording.  In  the  'seventies,  we  held  the 
intercollegiate  records,  I  believe,  in  the  mile  walk 
and  the  pole  vault  and  perhaps  in  other  games.  I  have 
an  idea  that  this  was  before  the  days  of  the  higher 
training  and  when  a  fraction  of  a  second  taken  from 
or  an  inch  added  to  the  last  great  effort  was  not  a 
matter  of  newspaper  extras  or  national  pride.  Since 
then  our  friendly  rivals  have  bought  with  lavishness, 
urged  by  the  desire  to  win  and  advertise,  coaches  and 
training  systems  beyond  the  dreams  of  simpler  days. 
Our  poor  little  records  are  separated  by  minutes  and 
yards  from  the  scores  now  remembered  by  college 
youth. 

They  say  that  we  are  again  to  become  winners  in 
intercollegiate  contests.  We  hear  that  the  College  is 
to  have  all  that  heart  can  desire  to  help  us  do  it.  None 
will  cheer  louder  than  those  who  ran  and  played  in 
the  vacant  lots.  May  they  not  then  have  the  hope, 
too,  that  the  sound  bodies  of  the  many  will  be  developed 
before  the  records  of  the  few? — that  all  may  join  in  the 
game,  that  there  may  be  no  sub  vent  ion  ed  gladiators? 


The  Spirit  of  the  College  xix 

Cheering  the  contestants  is  a  good,  whole-souled  custom, 
but  joining  the  fray  is  better  sport. 

May  the  conquerors  of  the  newer  day  remember 
the  vanquished  of  the  old — and  may  they  play  as  hard 
and  as  fair! 

We  were  certainly  the  heirs  of  West  Point  tradition. 
It  made  for  work  and  endurance,  for  discipline  and  for 
standing  up  to  face  the  fight  of  the  world  more  than  it 
made  for  the  more  elegant  learning.  We  have  pro- 
duced few  dilettanti  and  no  idlers.  But  the  spirit  of 
the  finer  culture  was  not  lacking.  If  we  had  the 
military  discipline  of  Webster  and  Webb,  we  had  the 
literary  influence  of  Anthon  and  Barton.  The  base  of 
the  college  work  was  its  rigid,  strenuous  course  in 
mathematics.  But  we  were  perhaps  the  first  college 
in  the  land  to  have  a  chair  in  English  and  among  the 
first  to  give  equal  importance  to  modern  as  to  ancient 
languages.  Since  the  earliest  days  we  have  taught 
the  practice  and  appreciation  of  the  fine  arts.  We  have 
had  an  ethical  and  a  political  ideal.  It  is  suggestive 
that  the  professor  of  moral  and  intellectual  philosophy 
taught  also  economics  and  constitutional  and  inter- 
national law. 

The  military  spirit  did  not  create  in  its  out-working 
an  ideal  collegiate  atmosphere.  It  made  us  stand 
upright;  it  gave  us  discipline  of  mind  and  habits;  it 
made  us  more  or  less  respecters  of  established  authority 
and,  within  limits,  law-abiding.  It  gave  us  too  a 
sense  of  responsibility.     As  an  officer  is  charged  with 


xx  The  Spirit  of  the  College 

the  care  of  his  men,  the  men  of  the  upper  classes  were 
held  to  maintain  the  tone  of  the  College.  I  think  that 
President  Webb  trusted  us  and  made  us  feel  his  trust. 

But  the  military  spirit  did  not  tend  to  beauty  of 
environment,  it  gave  us  no  feeling  of  the  holiness  that 
makes  of  some  college  halls  shrines  for  pilgrimage. 
The  old  College  is  not  beautiful,  however  sanctified  it  be 
to  many  of  us  by  association  and  friendship.  It  has 
never  become  a  place  of  worship  to  which  men  in  their 
age  return  as  they  must  to  the  gray  towers  of  Oxford 
or  the  elms  of  the  Harvard  yard. 

The  College  was  founded  and  given  its  limits  before 
the  day  that  the  nation  realized  that  beaut)'  as  a  part 
of  education  tends  to  beauty  as  a  part  of  life.  Soul, 
mind,  and  body,  all  three  must  be  trained  for  universal 
harmony. 

Again,  from  that  stern  discipline  came  the  loss  to  us 
of  personal  association  with  our  teachers.  Far  too 
few  of  those  who  could  have  made  us  loyal  to  our 
College  tried  to  do  so.  Far  too  few  cared  or  perhaps 
had  time  to  care  for  the  human  being  within  the  pupil. 
Tli is  is  written  with  a  dee])  hope  that  it  be  not  mis- 
understood by  the  men  who  in  the  hard  grind  of  their 
teaching  still  made  time  to  be  friends  with  their  boys. 
May  coming  generations  be  blessed  with  such  friendship 
as  was  ours  though  from  but  a  few.  The  city  is  full  of 
those  whose  earliest  inspiration  came  from  two  men, 
still  of  the  College,  ever  laboring  and  ever  young — 
and  vou  all  know  who  thev  are. 


The  Spirit  of  the  College  xxi 

The  new  College  is  a  thing  of  beauty  and  if  we  out- 
side read  the  signs  aright,  the  new  spirit  will  find  many 
men  who  will  feel  the  responsibility  of  building  up 
character  as  well  as  giving  knowledge.  They  will  be  in- 
spired by  the  noble  men  who  thus  saw  their  duty  during 
fifty  years.  May  one,  high  in  the  new  order  of  things, 
forgive  the  indiscretion  if  I  quote  his  saying  to  me 
when  he  was  new  to  his  task.  Said  he:  "They  want 
discipline — what  I  care  about  is  those  boys!"  This 
was  the  spirit  of  the  old  College  as  it  came  to  those  of 
us  who  were  greatly  privileged.  This  is  to  be  the  spirit 
of  the  new  College  as  it  must  come  to  all  who  have 
the  power  to  feel  it.  Others  will  tell  of  it  in  the  years 
to  come. 

Men  from  sixty  college  generations  have  joined  in 
the  writing  of  this  book  that  those  who  are  to  share  in 
the  new  order  may  not  forget  the  older  days  which 
were  good  days  too.  They  have  written  of  what  they 
remember  as  the  best  things  in  the  best  time  of  their 
lives.  They  have  written  of  the  College  for  the  men  of 
the  College  in  words  of  a  common  language.  Read  the 
record  in  the  spirit  of  the  writing.  It  is  not  intended  to 
be  history.  It  may  furnish  the  material  from  which 
some  day  history  will  be  written.  Whatever  else  it 
is,  it  is  human.  If  it  err  in  being  personal,  forgive! 
As  men  stir  the  embers  of  the  fires  of  other  years  it  is 
personality  that  burns  with  the  brightest  flame  of 
fair  memories. 


xxii  The  Spirit  of  the  College 

It  would  be  a  pleasant  task  to  thank  by  name  those 
who  have  helped  to  make  this  book.  But  their  names 
are  many  and  the  help  was  finely  given.  So  be  it 
said. 

When  the  time  of  moving  to  the  new  buildings 
seemed  to  be  coming  near,  the  Associate  Alumni 
resolved  to  preserve  the  memory  of  the  old  buildings 
and  the  life  within  their  walls  in  photographs  of  every 
detail  that  could  be  taken  by  the  camera.  These 
pictures  will  be  mounted  in  frames  prepared  by  the 
architect  and  placed  on  a  suitable  background  at  the 
new  College.  From  many  Alumni  came  requests  for 
copies.  It  was  then  decided  to  publish  most  of  them 
in  a  book  with  suitable  reading  matter.  The  hearty 
co-operation  of  the  Messrs.  Putnam  has  made  this 
possible.      May  they  accept  this  word  of  appreciation. 

The  writer  speaks  in  his  own  person  that 
he  may  have  the  privilege  of  saying  for  the  men  of  his 
College  that  they  owe  a  debt  of  thanks  to  the  last  man 
who  would  ask  for  thanks.  By  the  labor  and  devotion 
of  his  working  fellow-editor,  this  record  was  accom- 
plished of  the  life  of  the  Benign  Mother  whom  we 
would  praise  as  we  love  her. 


Respice 
The  College  of  the   Past 


The   College   of  the   Past 

Richard   R.   Bowker,  '68 

<<T  OOK  forward  and  not  backward"  is  a  wholesome 
counsel  in  the  conduct  of  life.  But  an  institu- 
tion must  be  judged  somewhat  in  the  light  of  its  past, 
from  which  its  present  has  developed  and  which  empha- 
sizes to  some  extent  its  future.  "Respice — Adspice — 
Pros  pice,"  the  motto  suggested  by  Prof.  Charles  E.  An- 
thon  for  the  College  of  the  City  of  New  York,  tells  the 
whole  story,  and  in  the  critical  change  in  the  affairs 
of  the  College  of  which  this  volume  is  a  memorial,  it 
is  peculiarly  fitting  that  there  should  be  first  of  all  a 
retrospect  of  what  the  College  has  been  as  we  look  for- 
ward to  what  the  College  is  to  be. 

The  story  of  public  education  in  New  York  City 
is  almost  an  epitome  of  the  history  of  its  general  devel- 
opment in  this  country.  Public  education  was  first 
a  matter  of  private  enterprise,  and  it  is  interesting  to 
note  that  the  earliest  provisions  for  it  had  to  do  with 
the  higher  education.  This  was  especially  true  in  New 
York.  King's  College  was  in  fact  a  child  of  the  State, 
and  when,  in  1784,  after  the  Revolution,  "the  Colledge 

3 


4  The  College  of  the  Past 

of  the  Province  of  New  York,*'  as  it  was  also  called,  was 
revived  as  Columbia  College,  under  which  name  it  is 
to-day  making  New  York  the  seat  of  a  great  university, 
it  was  at  first  proposed  to  call  it  definitively  the  State 
College,  and  eight  State  and  city  officials  were  included 
in  its  governing  body.  Its  munificent  endowment  of 
24.000  acres  was  a  gift  of  the  province,  made  in  1767, 
and  when,  in  the  early  part  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
after  the  cession  of  those  lands  to  Vermont,  this  was 
replaced  by  the  magnificent  estate  in  the  upper  part 
of  the  city  which  is  the  foundation  of  its  present  for- 
tune, the  State  added  also  a  money  donation  of  ten 
thousand  dollars.  In  recognition  of  its  origin.  Col- 
umbia has  always  made  provision  for  free  scholarships 
for  boys  from  the  public  schools;    but  it  was,  and  still 

under  certain  restrictions  of  a  particular  religious 
denomination,  and  the  time  soon  came  when  public 
opinion  demanded  that  the  city  of  Xew  York  should 
include,  ir.  -tern  of  public  education,  a  collegiate 

institution  free  in  every  sense  of  the  word. 

Public  education  on  the  elementary  side  received 
its  first  development  in  Xew  York  at  the  hands  of  a 
voluntary  association  of  citizens,  the  old  Public  School 
Society,  whose  noble  work  was  really  the  foundation  of 
the  magnificent  system  of  grammar  school  instruction 
which  ex's:-  in  Xew  York  to-day.  That  Societv  was 
started  in  1804,  and  it  was  not  until  1853  that  its 
"public-schools"  and  the  ward  schools  were  united 
into  one  svstem,  under  the  control  of  the  Board  of 


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The  College  of  the  Past  7 

Education,  organized  on  lines  not  dissimilar  from  those 
of  the  present  Board.  The  schools  of  the  Society, 
intended  originally  as  charity-schools  for  the  poor,  had 
proved  so  excellent  that  the  children  of  the  rich  also 
knocked  at  their  doors,  until  at  last  the  people  were 
glad  to  undertake  the  responsibility  of  providing  for 
their  support  by  public  taxation,  and  making  them  a 
place  where  the  rich  and  the  poor  should  indeed  meet 
together.  In  the  meantime,  from  as  early  as  1826, 
there  had  been  proposals  for  a  Latin  school,  a  high 
school,  a  normal  school — the  movement  assuming  dif- 
ferent phases  with  different  years.  It  was  after  the 
organization  of  the  Board  of  Education,  however,  that 
definite  steps  were  taken  for  the  foundation  of  that 
institution  for  the  higher  education  which  has  since 
become  the  College  of  the  City  of  New  York.  Town- 
send  Harris,  whose  name  is  interestingly  associated 
with  the  earliest  American  relations  with  Japan,  has 
been  properly  regarded  as  the  real  founder  of  the 
College,  as  is  acknowledged  in  the  naming  in  his  honor 
of  the  first  of  the  new  college  buildings  to  be  finished. 
It  was  on  his  motion  that  a  committee  wTas  appointed 
July  27,  1846,  to  report  upon  a  plan  which  took  final 
shape  when,  under  a  legislative  act  of  May  7,  1847,  the 
people  of  New  York,  in  the  school  and  judicial  election 
of  June,  1847,  decided,  by  a  vote  of  19,455  to  3409, 
that  they  would  establish  the  New  York  Free  Academy. 
In  November,  1847,  the  building  for  the  Free  Academy 
was  commenced,  and  on  the   15th  of  January,    1849, 


8  The  College  of  the  Past 

one  hundred  and  forty-three  boys,  picked  representa- 
tives of  the  public  and  ward  schools  of  New  York, 
assembled  in  the  chapel  of  the  completed  building  as 
the  first  class  of  the  Free  Academy.  The  original  build- 
ing still  stands,  with  its  curious  buttresses  and  corner 
turrets,  at  the  corner  of  Lexington  Avenue  and  Twenty- 
third  Street,  a  monument  to  New  Yorkers  of  a  city 
frugality  which  has  not  been  the  rule  in  later  years. 
The  building  should  be  doubly  famous  from  the  fact 
that  it  cost  actually  two  thousand  dollars  less  than  the 
appropriation  of  fifty  thousand  dollars,  and  that  its 
cost  per  cubic  foot,  nine  cents,  was  less  than  that  of  any 
building  for  public  purposes  ever  erected  in  New  York 
City.  The  cost  of  the  ground  was  but  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars,  making  the  total  investment,  includ- 
ing furnishing,  considerably  less  than  one  hundred 
thousand  dollars.  Except  that  the  stucco  and  paint, 
which  gave  it  a  make-believe  effect  of  stone,  have  of 
late  years  been  removed,  and  the  brick  construction 
honestly  shown  at  the  surface,  the  building  is  to-day 
what  it  was  sixty  years  ago;  and,  although  the  attend- 
ance at  the  College  has  doubled  several  times,  as  college 
generations  have  passed,  it  still  serves  for  the  main 
work  of  the  institution,  with  the  additions  only  of  a 
laboratorv  building  to  the  east,  and  a  class-room 
building  with  a  Natural  Historv  hall,  which  takes  up 
some  of  the  space  originallv  the  "yard."  But  it  is  no 
longer  above  the  centre  of  population  as  once  it  was,  nor 
can  its  professors  and  students  look  across  green  fields 


Lexington  Avenue  Facade. 
Showing  on  the  right  the  house  in  which  President  Webb  resided  for  many  years. 


The  College  of  the  Past  1 1 

southward,  over  Gramercy  Park;  westward,  beyond 
Madison  Square;  northward,  to  Rose  Hill,  now  Twenty- 
seventh  Street,  with  its  few  houses;  and  eastward 
clear  to  the  East  River.  Nor  can  the  boys  go  home 
"across  lots,"  at  the  venture  of  a  fracas  with  the  roughs 
frequenting  Stuyvesant  Square,  nor  steal  away  for 
a  half  hour  for  a  swim  in  the  unfrequented  river.  The 
city  long  ago  outgrew  its  bounds  of  those  days,  and  has 
moved  northward  beyond  the  imagination  of  any  man 
of  the  '4o's,  and  soon  the  College  will  no  longer  be 
"cribb'd,  cabined,  and  confined,"  on  its  old  site  in 
narrow  quarters. 

From  the  beginning,  the  school  officers  who  proposed 
the  Academy,  the  legislature  which  authorized  it,  the 
people  who  established  it,  had  held  firmly  to  two  ideas 
which  were  clearly  set  forth  in  the  report  of  the  first 
Executive  Committee  for  the  government  of  the  Acad- 
emy. They  meant  to  establish  an  institution  which, 
on  the  one  hand,  "in  the  character,  kind,  and  value  of 
the  education  imparted,  should  be  inferior  to  none  of 
our  colleges,"  and  on  the  other,  "should  be  so  organized 
that  the  course  of  studies  to  be  pursued  would  tend  to 
educate  the  pupils  practically,  and  particularly  qualify 
them  to  apply  their  learning  to  advance  and  perfect  the 
operations  of  the  various  trades  and  occupations  in 
which  they  may  engage,  and  to  furnish  peculiar  facil- 
ities for  instruction  of  the  highest  order  in  the  various 
branches  of  knowledge  omitted  altogether,  or  not 
practically  taught,  in  our  colleges."     These  two  ideas 


12  The  College  of  the  Past 

are  developed  in  the  original  course  of  studies.  "This 
institution,"  said  those  who  drew  the  curriculum, 
"unlike  other  academies,  is  intended  to  be  a  substitute 
for  both  the  academy  and  the  college,  offering  to  its 
pupils  the  means  of  general  education  now  furnished 
by  both  these  institutions  together.  Its  course  of 
studies,  therefore,  should  be  liberal,  and  embrace  those 
both  of  the  ordinary  academy  and  the  college."  These 
purposes  were  furthered  by  prefixing  to  the  usual  four 
college  classes  a  fifth  class,  known  originally  as  the 
Introductory  class,  and  later  as  the  sub-Freshman, 
which  was  really  a  connecting  link  between  the  schools 
and  the  college  proper.  Throughout  its  development 
the  College  has  not  only  held  fast  to  these  ideas,  but  it 
has  been  saved  by  them  from  aping  a  university,  and 
from  running  riot  in  elective  studies  as  so  many  of  its 
sister  colleges  have  done.  It  has  held  to  the  belief  that 
during  the  academic  and  early  collegiate  years  the 
student's  work  should  be  planned  for  him  by  those 
competent  to  survey  the  general  field  of  education,  as 
the  student  himself  is  not.  Only  in  the  Junior  and 
Senior  rears  are  "electives"  permitted.  But  from  the 
start  the  College  has  ingeniously  met  the  diverse  needs 
of  students  of  diverse  aims  by  providing,  in  place  of 
optional  studies,  alternative  curricula,  each  assuring  a 
broad  acquaintance  with  general  knowledge,  but  spe- 
cializing in  the  specific  direction  of  the  choice  of  the 
student  or  his  parents.  From  the  beginning,  therefore, 
there  were  a  classical  course  and  a  scientific  course,  to 


J   : 


The  College  of  the  Past  15 

which  later  was  added  a  mechanical  course.  The  origi- 
nal distinction  was  that  the  ancient  languages  (with 
one  optional  modern  language)  included  in  the  classical 
course  were  replaced  in  the  scientific  course  by  three 
modern  languages.  The  students  of  the  respective 
courses  were  commonly  known  as  the  "ancients"  and 
the  "moderns,"  which  was  indeed  a  more  correct 
nomenclature.  In  later  years  the  two  courses  de- 
veloped on  more  distinctive  lines.  A  mechanical 
course  was  established,  which,  while  omitting  a  few 
of  the  studies  in  the  other  courses,  embraced  actual 
shop  practice  in  the  use  of  tools,  as  well  as  studies  in 
mechanical  theory. 

The  course  of  studies  originally  outlined  included  in 
the  first  year  elementary  Latin,  which  elsewhere  was  a 
part  of  the  academic  preparation  for  college,  the  ele- 
ments of  a  modern  language,  book-keeping,  phono- 
graphy, and  drawing — certainly  an  unusual  combination 
of  studies  for  that  day. 

In  another  sense,  the  College  was  the  child  of  West 
Point,  and  it  adopted  West  Point  traditions  of  strict 
discipline  and  the  importance  of  higher  mathematics, 
of  drawing,  and  of  thorough  training  in  English.  Its 
first  president,  Horace  Webster,  was  a  graduate  of 
West  Point  in  the  class  of  '18,  and  its  first  professor 
of  mathematics,  Ross,  was  also  a  West  Pointer.  The 
organizers  of  the  College  were  indeed  fortunate  in 
gathering,  as  the  first  faculty,  a  remarkable  body  of 
men.     In  those  days  class  instruction  was  given  almost 


1 6  The  College  of  the  Past 

entirely  by  the  professors,  and  their  personal  influence 
was  therefore  direct  and  efficient.  The  first  president, 
who  ruled  with  a  rod  of  iron  for  twenty  years,  is  re- 
membered by  his  students  for  his  distinguished  bear- 
ing, his  high  faith  in  the  future  of  the  College  and  his 
earnest  devotion  to  its  interests,  his  strict,  indeed 
dogmatic,  views  of  discipline,  his  wholesome  intoler- 
ance of  laziness  and  carelessness. 

"  Ye  students  think  how  great  a  man  is  he 
Who  can  at  once  Horace  and  Webster  be," 

was  the  amusing  tribute  of  the  college  poet;  but  "the 
Doctor ' '  was  rather  a  combination  of  Cato  and  Andrew 
Jackson.  He  stamped  his  mark  indelibly  on  the  College 
and  upon  the  students  of  his  time,  as  a  man  who  looms 
up  in  memory  as  the  years  go  by. 

The  first  president  was  succeeded  by  General  Alex- 
ander S.  Webb,  another  graduate  of  West  Point  and  a 
veteran  of  the  Civil  War,  and  these  two  men,  Webster 
and  Webb,  in  the  presidential  chair,  span  the  whole 
history  of  the  College  up  to  1902.  In  that  year  General 
Webb  retired,  and  Professor  Alfred  G.  Compton,  an 
alumnus  of  the  first  class  to  graduate  from  the  College, 
served  as  acting  president  of  the  institution  for  a  year. 
In  September,  1903,  Dr.  John  H.  Finley,  formerly  presi- 
dent of  Knox  College  and  later  professor  of  politics 
at  Princeton,  was  inaugurated  as  president  on  the  same 
day  with  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone  of  the  College 
of  the  future  on  St.  Nicholas  Heights. 

The  faculty,  consisting  originally  of  ten  men,  has 


The  Lexincton  Avenue  Entrance 

This  entrance  has  for  sixty  years  been  held  sacred  for  visitors  and  the  instructing  corps. 

The  diamond-shaped  window  immediately  over  the  door  sheds  light  into 

"  Cana's  den,"  the  tiny  office  of  the  sore-tried  Registrar. 


17 


The  College  of  the  Past  19 

been  enlarged  again  and  again  with  the  growing  needs 
of  the  institution,  until  to-day  it  includes  twelve  pro- 
fessors who  are  heads  of  departments,  fifteen  associate 
professors,  and  ten  assistant  professors.  These,  more- 
over, are  assisted  by  a  staff  of  instructors  numbering 
over  a  hundred  and  forty. 

The  relation  of  the  College  to  New  York  life  is 
thorough  and  vital.  Its  fifty-seven  classes  have  given 
more  or  less  training  to  about  thirty  thousand  students, 
and  though  its  2659  living  alumni  (out  of  291 1  in  all) 
are  found  from  Maine  to  California,  and  in  such  distant 
centres  as  London,  Beirut,  Foochow,  Sidney,  and 
Hawaii,  over  two  thousand  are  recorded  as  remaining 
in  New  York  City,  and  probably  a  thirtieth  of  the 
entire  male  population  of  the  city,  above  the  age  of 
fifteen,  have  been  students  in  the  College.  Nearly 
every  family  in  New  York,  except  among  the  latest 
immigrants,  has  had  directly  or  indirectly  some  know- 
ledge of  the  advantages  of  the  College,  and  it  is  there- 
fore not  surprising  that  one  of  the  several  attacks  made 
upon  it  was  met  by  a  memorial  in  its  favor  signed  by 
fifty-five  thousand  citizens.  Many  of  its  students  come 
from  the  poorest  classes,  the  fathers  working  harder 
that  their  boys  may  have  a  ' '  better  chance ' '  than  them- 
selves, and  of  these  many  are  the  children  of  foreign 
parents  who  speak  little  if  any  English,  for  whom  the 
public  schools  and  the  College  are  the  living  link  be- 
tween the  bright  future  which  the}-  seek  for  their 
children,   and  the  dark  past  from   which  they   have 


20  The  College  of  the  Past 

escaped.  Cf  late  years  foreign  names  have  been  more 
and  more  predominant  on  the  roll  and  among  the  honor 
men — direct  proof  of  the  assimilating  influence  of  our 
public  school  and  college  training,  and  of  the  peculiar 
value  of  the  chair  of  English  in  the  City  College.  The 
students  lack  dormitory  life,  but  as  an  offset  they  are 
constant  centres  of  unconscious  development  in  their 
own  homes,  when  they  belong  to  the  less  developed 
part  of  the  community;  and  the  continued  association 
in  the  schools,  in  the  College,  and  in  business  life  has 
developed  friendships  which  knit  together  usefullv  a 
great  many  of  New  York's  most  effective  citizens  as 
the  men  of  no  other  college  are  knit  together. 

The  same  influence  has  been  exerted  usefully  upon 
and  through  the  public:  school  system,  although  the 
College  has  not  even  yet  developed  its  full  powers  as  a 
guiding  force  in  our  system  of  public  education.  The 
City  College  has  been  virtually  a  normal  college  for  men, 
and  in  this  way  has  also  greatly  influenced  the  public 
school  system.  Three  members  of  the  Board  of  Edu- 
cation ian<l  numerous  ex-members)  beside  many  of 
the  superintendents,  principals,  and  male  teachers  in 
the  city  schools,  and  professors  and  instructors  in  the 
College,  are  City  College  men.  More  than  twenty  per 
cent  of  its  graduates  have  returned  to  be  teachers  in 
the  public  schools  which  educated  them,  and  the  College 
has  also  sent  professors  to  Vale,  Columbia,  Princeton, 
Johns  Hopkins,  Pennsylvania,  California  University, 
the    Stevens    Institute,    Roberts    College    (Constanti- 


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The  College  of  the  Past  23 

nople),    the    Anglo-Chinese    College    (Foochow),    and 
other  universities  and  educational  institutions. 

For  many  years  the  entrance  examinations  at  the 
College  offered  annually  an  opportunity  of  test  and  of 
contest  which  aided  in  keeping  the  several  public 
schools  well  up  to  the  highest  standards.  The  masters 
of  the  upper  classes  made  personal  reputations  through 
the  boys  whom  they  sent  up  to  college,  a  fact  which 
proved  usefully  stimulating  throughout  the  public 
school  service.  For  many  years  admission  could  be 
obtained  only  through  the  public  schools,  a  premium 
on  these  city  schools  which  since  1882  has  no  longer 
been  felt  necessary,  and  the  writer  is  one  of  many  who 
passed  a  year  in  public  schools  for  the  express  purpose 
of  entering  the  College.  Many  boys  came  up  for  exam- 
ination simply  to  obtain  the  credentials  which  the 
certificate  of  admission  afforded,  and  many  others, 
unable  to  take  time  for  the  full  course,  have  had  a  year 
or  more  of  college  training  to  their  permanent  benefit. 
The  large  number  of  boys  who  have  had  this  partial 
advantage,  in  comparison  with  those  who  have  achieved 
their  degrees,  is  one  of  the  best  proofs  of  the  usefulness 
of  the  College.  The  entrance  examinations,  at  first 
oral,  were  soon  made  written,  as  the  throng  became 
too  large  to  be  handled  orally;  and  of  recent  years  the 
ancient  custom  has  been  perforce  abandoned  entirely 
and  students  are  admitted  on  presentation  of  a  public 
school  certificate  of  graduation.  All  applicants,  how- 
ever, must  still  survive  one  of  the  former  tests.    They 


24  The  College  of  the  Past 

are  given  a  probationary  trial  of  eight  weeks,  during 
which  those  who  would  be  absolutely  in  the  way  of 
their  fellow-students  are  definitely  weeded  out.     The 
written    examinations,    which    demand    good    spelling 
and  good  form  in  writing  as  part  of  their  requirements, 
have  done  much  to  safeguard  the  College  against  the 
deficiencies  in  the  elementary  branches  as  to  which 
there  has  been  so  much  recent  complaint  from  our  more 
famous  colleges.     An  applicant  was  formerly  required 
to  be  fourteen  years  of  age,  and  a  resident  of  the  city 
of  New  York;   he  must  "pass"  in  writing,  spelling,  the 
English  language,  arithmetic,  geography,  the  history 
of  the  United  States,  and  industrial  drawing.     These 
are   all   "common   sense"   studies.     At   the   entrance 
examinations  which  were  held  in  June,  the  applicants 
often  exceeded  twelve  hundred;   no  one  was  permitted 
to  be  present  save  instructors  and  Trustees,  and  the 
examiners    were   permitted   to   know   the    candidates 
and  their  papers  only  by  numbers. 

As  soon  as  the  student  entered,  he  was  in  past  years 
subjected  to  a  discipline  unusually  strict.  The  first 
president  had  military  ideas  as  to  certain  routine 
virtues,  such  as  punctuality  and  application,  which  have 
remained  fundamental  principles  in  the  College.  Every 
student  must  be  punctually  in  his  seat  at  "chapel,"  so 
called;  no  "cuts"  were  allowed,  and  if  a  student  were 
absent  for  whatever  cause  for  more  than  one  day  in  a 
term,  he  was  obliged  to  make  up  his  lost  work  by 
examination.     In  fact  the  whole  theory  of  the  College 


The  Janitor's  Office 
The  Second  Generation  of  Bonney's. 


25 


The  College  of  the  Past  27 

centres  on  what  a  man  does,  not  on  what  he  might  do 
if  he  had  not  been  late  or  absent  or  at  other  disad- 
vantage— a  faithful  premonition  of  the  hard  tests  of 
life.  A  two  weeks'  oral  and  written  examination,  in 
January,  reviews  the  work  of  the  first  term;  a  similar 
examination,  in  June,  extends  over  ten  days  and  is 
mostly  in  writing. 

The  system  of  demerit  marks  long  in  force,  some- 
what childish  in  one  sense,  had  a  certain  advantage  in 
keeping  before  men  the  fact  that  conduct  and  punctu- 
ality, as  well  as  scholarship,  are  to  count  in  after  life. 
One  hundred  demerit  marks  in  a  term,  or  175  within 
the  year,  caused  a  student  to  be  dropped  from  the  rolls. 
Recently  Dr.  Finley  has  done  away  with  the  demerit 
system  and  established  a  reliance  upon  student  honor, 
a  harmony  between  instructor  and  instructed,  which 
is  more  in  consonance  with  modern  educational  ideas. 

Through  the  early  years  the  college  day  always 
opened  with  the  "  chapel  exercises,"  over  which  the 
first  president  presided  with  an  iron  will  for  twenty 
years.  Beyond  a  reading  of  a  chapter  in  the  Bible, 
which  gave  opportunity  for  mischievous  Freshmen 
to  replace  "the  Doctor's"  bookmark,  so  that  for  days 
at  a  time  he  read  over  the  chapter  on  Shadrach,  Mesh- 
ach,  and  Abednego,  there  has  been  no  distinctively 
religious  feature.  But  punctually  at  8.40,  on  pain  of 
' '  five  demerits ' '  if  late,  each  student  was  required  to 
be  in  his  place,  duly  noted  by  the  "head  of  the  section."' 
and  listen  to  "senior  oration,"  "junior  oration,"  and 


28  The  College  of  the  Past 

"sophomore  declamation."  The  Doctor's  "Time's 
up !  "  was  the  awf ul  conclusion  to  the  unhappy  student 
who  took  more  than  his  allotted  five  minutes  for  stam- 
mering speech  or  too  prolific  rhetoric,  and  his  "That 
will  do"  imposed  a  still  more  awful  penalty  on  the 
unfortunates  who  forgot  their  "orations,"  which  had 
always  to  be  delivered  memoriter.  The  chapel,  which 
occupies  the  entire  top  of  the  building,  remains  to-dav 
almost  as  it  was  at  the  beginning,  except  that  then  but 
a  portion  of  it  was  occupied  by  the  students,  whereas  in 
later  years  only  a  portion  of  them  could  be  crowded 
into  its  space  and  some  of  the  sub-Freshmen  assembled 
elsewhere.  It  has  been  the  scene  of  a  good  part  of  the 
college  pranks.  A  dog  or  a  goat  would  occasionally 
appear  among  the  subjects  for  instruction  and  the 
coat-rooms  ranged  under  its  eves  were  a  place  of  refuge 
from  wrath  to  come.  One  of  the  corner-rooms  com- 
municating with  the  turrets,  which  reach  from  bottom 
to  top  of  the  building,  was  the  scene  of  the  college  legend 
of  "the  striped  trousers."  The  chapel  was  used  in 
early  days  for  the  "study-hour"  of  the  students  who 
had  no  recitation  specified  for  the  time,  and  once  an 
enterprising  group  let  one  of  their  number  down  by  a 
rope  through  the  turret,  to  the  astonishment  of  a 
professor  and  his  class,  as  a  pair  of  striped  trousers 
kicked  their  way  vigorously  through  the  little  window 
placed  in  the  turrets  for  purposes  of  ventilation.  The 
professor  immediately  aroused  "the  Doctor,"  and  both 
together  started  on  a  search  for  the  culprit.     By  the 


*     5 

<   .2 


The  College  of  the  Past  31 


*& 


time  they  had  reached  the  corner  cloak-room  and 
obtained  entrance  through  the  barricaded  door,  the 
wearer  of  the  striped  trousers  had  found  time  to 
exchange  with  some  other  of  the  party  and  the  man  who 
was  promptly  identified  by  the  professor  as  promptly 
swore  out  an  alibi. 

When  in  1861  the  war  swept  over  the  country  and 
carried  away  on  its  crimson  flood  the  flower  of  our 
youth,  the  College  had  graduated  but  eight  classes,  and 
had  perhaps  two  hundred  alumni.  Of  these  two  hun- 
dred, some  forty  went  to  war,  and  the  class  of  '61  and 
succeeding  classes  gave  up  their  best  men.  A  modest 
tablet  in  the  College  commemorates  the  sacrifice  of 
Grey,  Wightman,  Crosby,  Van  Buren,  Young,  Keith, 
and  Elliott,  the  last  the  valedictorian  of  his  class,  facile 
princcps  among  the  men  who  had  up  to  that  time 
graduated.  When  Elliott  fell  on  Lookout  Mountain, 
the  most  brilliant  man  the  College  had  yet  produced 
sacrificed  a  life  full  of  promise.  The  name  of  Weed, 
who  fell  on  the  second  day  at  Gettysburg,  is  not  on  the 
tablet,  because  he  was  credited  to  West  Point  and  is 
commemorated  in  its  chapel.  Others,  like  Tremain, 
Van  Buren  and  McKibbin,  won  their  stars  as  brevet 
brigadier-generals,  and  as  commanders  of  military  dis- 
tricts aided  to  restore  order  to  the  countrv  thev  had 
aided  in  saving  for  the  Union.  While  these  men  were 
in  the  field  those  remaining  did  their  dutv  at  home, 
Professor  Wolcott  Gibbs  in  especial  being  one  of  the 
foremost  men  on  the  Sanitarv  Commission.     The  war 


32  The  College  of  the  Past 

had  also  its  effect  on  the  college  course.  West  Point 
textbooks  on  military  engineering  and  on  ordnance 
and  gunnery  were  introduced,  and  these  studies  re- 
mained in  the  curriculum  for  some  years  after  the  war. 

In  1866  the  original  title  of  the  New  York  Free 
Academy  was  changed  by  the  Legislature  to  the  Col- 
lege of  the  City  of  Xew  York.  The  change  recognized 
the  real  standing  of  the  institution,  but  happily  it  did 
not  affect  its  combination  of  high  school  with  college. 
The  Introductory  class  remained  as  the  sub-Freshman, 
affording  to  boys  who  otherwise  would  be  in  schools  of 
an  academic  grade  the  considerable  advantage  of 
direct  intercourse  with  and  oversight  from  the  college 
faculty.  The  professor  of  chemistry  and  physics,  for 
instance,  delivered  two  lectures  a  week  throughout  the 
year  to  the  boys  of  the  sub-Freshman  class,  and  thus 
interested  them  directly  in  science;  and  other  profes- 
sors had  also  more  or  less  direct  relations  of  the  same 
nature.  The  course  of  studies  has  developed  somewhat 
from  time  to  time,  but  the  wisdom  of  the  founders 
has  been  shown  by  the  fact  that  it  has  required  so  little 
change  to  keep  the  College  "up  to  the  times."  The 
most  important  change  during  many  years  was  the 
development  of  a  mechanical  course  with  work-shop 
practice  under  the  charge  of  Professor  Compton. 

Long  since  the  College  has  outgrown  its  shell,  but 
the  old  building  was  admirably  arranged  for  its  original 
purpose — the  whole  top  floor  the  "chapel,"  an  impres- 
sive, pillared   room,    with    nave  and  aisles  and  great 


Twenty-third   Street   Entrance. 
Through  this  doorway  have  passed  over  sixty  successive  classes  of  students. 
More  than  once  delinquents  of  a  little  learning  have  scrawled  across 
its  yawning  front:     "All  hope  abandon  ye  who  enter  here." 


33 


The  College  of  the  Past  35 


'.*-> 


(lows  at  either  end;  the  other  stories  divided  by  a 
main  hall  lengthwise  and  a  stairway  hall  crosswise,  into 
four  divisions,  each  containing  two  or  three  spacious 
lecture-rooms.  On  the  first  floor  these  four  sections 
are  given  respectively  to  the  president's  and  faculty 
rooms,  the  library,  the  chemistry  lecture-room,  and  the 
laboratory.  The  basement  floor  gives  janitor's  rooms, 
store-rooms,  and  workshops  for  the  mechanical  course. 
Curiously  enough,  "Room  No.  i,"  in  which  for  his  en- 
tire term  President  Webster,  as  professor  of  philosophy, 
delivered  his  lectures  to  the  Senior  class,  was  in  these 
depths,  occupying  the  space  now  devoted  to  the  work- 
shops. But  the  spacious  class-rooms  had  soon  to  be  cut 
up,  one  after  another,  into  smaller  rooms  to  accommo- 
date the  increasing  throng  of  students.  In  1870  an 
additional  building,  including,  besides  recitation-rooms, 
a  gathering-place  for  the  lower  classes,  and  a  good 
natural  history  hall,  was  erected,  and  an  extension  to 
the  main  building  has  also  afforded  opportunity  for  a 
better  laboratory  in  which  students  can  do  individual 
work.  But  with  all  these  makeshifts  the  College  has 
been  cramped  at  every  turn.  The  excellent  library,  con- 
taining above  37.000  volumes,  became  almost  useless 
by  lack  of  space,  and  the  collections,  containing  75,000 
specimens,  have  been  housed  here  and  there  about  the 
buildings  to  the  very  last  corner,  while  valuable  physi- 
cal apparatus  suffered  equally  for  want  of  room.  With 
the  new  provision  for  the  city's  great  educational 
institution,  it  should  be  possible  to  put  these  several 


36  The  College  of  the  Past 

collections  at  the  service  of  the  public  as  well  as  of  the 
students  proper,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped,  also,  that  the 
college  buildings  may  become  a  centre  of  university 
extension,  and  thus  increase  the  vital  relations  of  the 
College  with  the  population  of  the  metropolis. 

When  the  College  opened,  its  site  was  more  than  a 
mile  above  the  city's  centre  of  population,  and  in  1851, 
two  years  later,  only  57  out  of  its  382  students 
lived  north  of  Twenty-third  Street.  At  the  turn  of  the 
century  the  old  site  was  more  than  a  mile  below  the 
city's  centre  of  population,  and  that  population  was 
several  times  what  it  was  in  1848.  Forty  years  ago  it 
was  proposed  to  move  the  College  uptown,  to  where 
the  Seventh  Regiment  Armory  now  stands,  or  to 
Reservoir  Square.  Both  of  those  sites  were  already  too 
far  downtown,  and  the  movement  for  removal  took 
final  shape  in  a  plan  for  a  site  well  to  the  north,  about 
where  the  centre  of  population  will  be  in  the  early  part 
of  the  present  century.  The  old  college  site,  which  even 
with  the  addition  of  the  Twenty-second  Street  plot, 
cost  only  S3  7.000,  is  now  valued  at  a  dozen  times  that 
amount.  It  was  "manifest  destiny"  that  the  College 
should  take  part  in  the  northward  movement  of  all  our 
educational  institutions. 

One  by  one  the  alumni  of  the  College  and  then 
other  citizens  of  our  metropolis  began  to  recognize  the 
pressing  needs  of  this  their  favorite  educational  insti- 
tution. Their  united  efforts  resulted  finally  in  1895  in 
the  passage  of  a  bill  by  the  State  Legislature  which 


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The  College  of  the  Past  39 

authorized  the  erection  of  the  new  college  buildings 
now  standing  on  St.  Nicholas  Heights.  A  thousand 
obstacles,  some  foreseen,  others  unforeseen,  delayed 
the  acquirement  of  the  site  and  the  construction  of 
the  buildings.  Meanwhile  the  crowded  conditions  in 
Twenty-third  Street  became  unbearable.  Rooms  were 
partitioned  off  by  curtains  in  the  chapel;  classes  recited 
in  the  old  "faculty  room,"  once  reserved  solely  for  the 
deliberations  of  that  august  body.  Finally  even  the 
library,  already  overflowing,  was  pressed  into  service, 
and  a  class-room  partitioned  off  among  its  shelves. 

The  first  definite  move  toward  relieving  this  con- 
gestion took  place  in  1899,  when  the  authorities  leased 
for  the  College  the  upper  floor  of  the  two-story  addition 
to  the  Metropolitan  Life  Building  on  Twenty-third 
Street  between  Fourth  and  Madison  avenues.  To 
this  temporary  annex  were  transferred  ten  "sections" 
of  students,  and  the  groaning  floors  of  the  main  building 
found  some  slight  relief. 

The  respite  was  but  brief.  Other  changes  were 
impending  about  the  College,  sufficient  to  make  the 
year  1900  an  epoch  in  its  growth,  a  year  as  important 
as  that  which  brought  to  it  the  name  and  dignity  of  a 
college. 

In  1900  was  passed  the  law  which  removed  the 
College  from  under  the  supervision  of  the  New  York 
Board  of  Education  and  placed  it  under  trustees  of  its 
own.  These  trustees  were  made  ten  in  number,  nine 
to  be  appointed  by  the  mayor  of  the  city,  the  other 


40  The  College  of  the  Past 

to  be  the  president  of  the  Board  of  Education.  This 
was  dreaded  by  some  as  holding  within  it  a  possi- 
bility of  the  weakening  of  the  associations  connecting 
the  College  with  the  public  school  system,  a  danger 
which  fortunately  has  proved  illusory.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  withdrew  the  College  from  the  care  of  a 
large  group  of  overworked  gentlemen  not  always  in 
sympathy  with  its  needs,  and  placed  its  guidance  in 
the  hands  of  a  compact  bod}*  of  select  men,  several 
of  them  its  own  alumni,  and  all  devoted  to  its  welfare. 
The  advantages  of  this  more  concentrated  control 
have  been  made  most  happily  manifest  not  only  in  the 
construction  of  the  new  college,  but  in  the  government 
of  the  eld.  Modern  education  had  made  such  advances 
that  a  change  notable  and  far  reaching  was  being  forced 
upon  the  College  from  without.  High  schools  had  been 
established  by  the  city  and,  their  four-year  course  of 
study  being  only  a  single  year  shorter  than  that  at  the 
0  liege,  the  older  institution  was  brought  into  obvious 
competition  with  the  new  ones.  Moreover,  colleges 
everywhere  throughout  the  country  were  being  sharply 
separated  from  the  so-called  "secondary  schools"  and 
were  demanding  four  years  of  high  school  study  as  a 
preliminary  to  "college "  work.  The  extra  pressure  put 
upon  students  at  the  City  College,  and  the  more  numer- 
ous hours  of  recitation,  had  long  been  held  to  make  the 
course  equivalent  to  a  more  extended  one  elsewhere, 
but  the  discrepancy  was  growing  too  great.  Finally  the 
New  York  State  Board  of  Regents  warned  the  college 


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The  College  of  the  Past  43 

authorities  that  unless  the  course  was  enlarged  they 
would  refuse  to  recognize  the  college  degrees.  Under 
this  urgency  changes  were  made.  The  old  plea  of 
heavier  work  was  still  admitted,  and  in  consequence 
the  Regents  did  not  ask  that  the  course  be  extended  to 
eight  years,  but  agreed  that  seven  were  sufficient. 
The>-  also  approved  of  the  change  being  made  gradually. 
It  began  its  operation  in  1900.  The  students  entering 
in  June,  1899,  an^  graduating  in  1904  formed  the  last 
five-year  class.  The  practice  was  begun  of  admitting 
the  public  school  graduates  twice  a  year,  in  February 
as  well  as  in  June.  A  class  was  thus  begun  in  February, 
1900,  and  graduated  in  June,  1905,  after  five  and  a 
half  years.  The  class  of  1906  spent  six  years  in  the 
institution;  that  of  1907  entered  in  February,  1901. 
Not  until  1908  will  the  graduating  students  have  had 
the  full  seven  years'  tuition.  And  after  that  the  College, 
since  it  has  continued  the  policy  of  welcoming  students 
in  February,  must  face  the  problem  of  graduating  them 
in  that  month  also  and  possibly  having  two  "Com- 
mencements" each  year. 

This  change  has  of  course  greatly  altered  the  old 
svstem  at  the  College.  The  former  "sub-Freshman 
class"  has  been  extended  over  three  years  and  is 
known  as  the  "academic  department."  Its  entering 
class  is  known  as  lower  C,  then,  after  six  months,  as 
upper  C,  then  come  lower  and  upper  B,  and  lower  and 
upper  A.  From  A  there  are  regular  graduation  exer- 
cises and  a  formula  of  admission  into  the  four-vear 


44  The  College  of  the  Past 

course  of  the  College  proper.  Professor  John  R.  Sim 
has  been  made  "professor  in  charge"  of  the  academic 
department. 

This  increase  in  the  number  of  the  lower  grades  has 
resulted  in  a  temporary  displacement  of  the  centre  of 
gravity  in  the  College.  There  are  many  lower-class 
students;  while  in  the  upper  classes,  spread  apart  to 
cover  the  gap  between  five  years  and  seven,  the  men 
are  comparatively  less  numerous.  But  this  dispropor- 
tion will  balance  itself  in  another  two  years,  and 
the    classes  resume  a  more  normal  relation  as  to  size. 

Turning  again  to  the  practical  conditions  which  the 
College  faced  in  1900,  one  can  readily  imagine  how  the 
increasing  number  of  classes  accentuated  the  crowded 
condition  of  affairs.  The  annex  in  the  Metropolitan 
building  soon  proved  too  small,  and  in  February,  1901, 
the  building  was  abandoned  and  a  larger  one  was  leased. 
This  new  annex,  known  as  the  Cass  building,  was  sit- 
uated on  the  north  side  of  Twenty-third  Street  (No.  209) 
between  Third  and  Second  avenues.  During  the  period 
of  shifting,  afternoon  sessions  were  held  in  the  old 
buildings;  and  then  the  Cass  building  was  put  hurried lv 
into  use  with  temporary  paper  muslin  partitions  mark- 
ing off  the  rooms,  and  with  instructors'  voices  ringing 
from  end  to  end  of  the  crowded  floors.  The  new  annex, 
when  arrangements  were  completed,  had  space  for  over 
a  thousand  students;  yet  within  a  year  it  was  over- 
crowded and  still  further  room  required.  A  second 
building,  the  Beach,  was  therefore  leased  (Feb.,  1902) 


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The  College  of  the  Past  47 

on   Twenty-third   Street   between   Lexington   Avenue 
and  Fourth. 

With  these  two  annexes  the  College  continued 
until  1905.  But  the  two  thousand  students  of  1901  had 
increased  to  three  thousand  and  beyond.  One  night  the 
Beach  building  was  gutted  by  fire,  and  the  expedient 
of  afternoon  sessions  was  perforce  resorted  to  again. 
After  that  there  was  no  escaping  them,  and  the  Cass 
building  had  regular  afternoon  classes  from  one  o'clock 
till  five. 

Fortunately  the  uptown  structures  were  approach- 
ing completion.  The  Beach  building  was  abandoned  in 
the  spring  of  1905.  Townsend  Harris  Hall  was  made 
ready  for  some  portion  of  the  academic  department, 
and  in  September,  1905,  began  the  gradual  transference 
of  the  students  to  their  new  home.  Only  the  academic 
A's  and  B's  were  sent  there  at  first;  and  students  and 
instructors  worked  amid  the  clang  of  hammers,  without 
doors  to  their  rooms,  often  without  glass  in  the  window 
openings.     On  cold  days  everybody  was  sent  home. 

In  September,  1906,  the  buildings  were  so  far  ad- 
vanced that  it  was  possible  for  them  to  accommodate 
the  entire  academic  department.  All  of  those  students 
were  established  there  and  the  Cass  building,  last  of 
the  downtown  annexes,  became,  so  far  as  the  College  is 
concerned,  a  tradition  of  the  past. 

The  alteration  in  the  length  of  the  college  course 
made  necessarily  an  alteration  in  its  course  of  study. 
After  careful  deliberation  and  consultation  with  the 


48  The  College  of  the  Past 


& 


faculty,  the  trustees  separated  the  old  three  courses 
into  five.  These  were  established  in  September,  1901. 
Three  led  to  the  degree  of  B.  A.  and  are  known  as  the 
Language  Course,  Classical;  the  Language  Course,  Latin 
and  French;  and  the  Language  Course,  Modern.  The 
other  two,  leading  to  the  degree  of  B.  S.,  are  the  Scien- 
tific Course,  and  the  Scientific  Course,  Mechanical. 
Of  these  the  first,  third,  and  fifth  may  be  regarded  as 
enlargements  of  the  old  Classical,  Scientific,  and  Me- 
chanical Courses.  Still  another  scientific  course  has 
recently  been  added. 

With  such  training  and  with  the  thoroughness 
which  has  always  been  insisted  on  in  every  branch,  it 
is  no  wonder  that  the  City  College  man  is  distinctively 
a  worker.  The  strict  discipline  and  effective  scholar- 
ship of  the  College  are  well  shown  in  the  after-record  of 
its  men,  particularly  in  the  professional  schools  of 
New  York.  Not  many  of  its  graduates  have  become 
ministers,  but  the  other  professions  have  taken  a  good 
number,  and  these  men  have  won  a  large  share  of  the 
prizes  in  the  New  York  professional  schools.  Of  the 
college  graduates  studying  in  the  School  of  Mines,  in 
the  years  for  which  records  are  at  hand,  City  College 
men  numbered  sixteen  per  cent,  and  took  forty-three 
per  cent,  of  the  prizes.  Perhaps  the  Civil  Service  exam- 
inations at  the  New  York  Custom  House  prove  the 
most  interesting  test.  A  report  of  1882  stated  that 
"applicants  educated  at  the  New  York  Free  Academy 
have  been  so  signally  successful  that  they  have  been 


c 
K 


s 
o 
o 


v.    +j 
W    >8 


o 


O 


The  College  of  the  Past  51 

placed  in  a  distinct  class."  Out  of  377  applicants  up 
to  1880,  fourteen  were  educated  at  the  College;  the 
general  average  of  all  applicants  was  64  per  cent.,  against 
which  the  City  College  men  had  reached  the  average  of 
82  per  cent.,  the  men  of  special  technological  education 
coming  next  with  80  per  cent.,  those  of  other  colleges 
following  with  69  per  cent.,  those  of  academic  education 
with  68  per  cent.,  those  with  free-school  education  with 
61  per  cent.,  and  those  educated  in  business  colleges 
with  59  per  cent.  Here  is  the  best  of  evidence  both 
that  education  tells  in  practical  life  and  that  the  College 
of  the  City  of  New  York  has  held  its  own  in  general 
education. 

The  excellent  mathematical  and  scientific  training 
of  the  College  was  not  only  serviceable  during  the  war, 
but  has  given  its  men  an  advantage  in  the  army,  and 
in  engineering  life  and  scientific  work  generallv.  Major 
Michaelis,  of  '62.  who  enlisted  as  a  private  in  the  first 
month  of  the  war,  was  the  first  civilian  to  pass  examin- 
ation for  admission  into  the  Ordnance  Corps,  one  of  the 
two  blue  ribbon  divisions  of  the  army,  in  which  the 
honor  men  of  West  Point  find  place.  Many  of  the  stu- 
dents of  the  College  after  a  partial  course  there  have 
won  their  way  by  competitive  examination  to  West 
Point  or  Annapolis,  and  thus,  though  lost  to  the  College 
records,  have  taken  its  training  into  those  fields  of  life. 
Cleveland  Abbe,  at  Washington;  Ira  Remsen  at  Balti- 
more; Edward  W.  Scripture  at  Yale;  J.  Bach  Mc- 
Master  at  Princeton;    Bashford  Dean  and  Charles  L. 


52  The  College  of  the  Past 

Poor  at  Columbia;  Robert  F.  Weir  at  the  College  of 
Physicians  and  Surgeons;  Charles  Derleth  at  the 
University  of  California  ;  Frank  Schlesinger  at  the 
Meadville  Observatory,  and  W.  E.  Geyer  at  the  Stevens 
Institute,  are  among  the  men  who  stand  in  science  as  its 
representatives. 

The  College  has  no  dormitory  life,  but  it  has  strong 
society  spirit.  In  the  early  days  the  "  Amphilogian " 
set  the  example  which  was  followed  by  the  "Clionian" 
and  "  Phrenocosmian,"  the  two  literary  societies  of 
to-dav,  which  semi-annually  meet  in  joint  debate  in  the 
college  chapel  in  contention  for  a  prize.  The  Amphilo- 
gian limited  its  membership  to  the  first  class,  but  its 
men  for  several  years  kept  up  the  memory  of  the  past 
by  a  rowboat  excursion  to  Riker's  Island,  where  they 
"celebrated"  under  the  shade  of  cedar  groves  which 
are  now  no  more.  The  first  Greek  letter  society, 
the  Sigma  Xi,  was  also  a  '53  society,  but  later 
came  Alpha  Delta  Phi,  Delta  Kappa  Epsilon,  Phi 
Gamma  Delta,  Theta  Delta  Chi,  and  others  of  more 
recent  date,  in  which  fraternities  the  New  York 
chapters  have  taken  a  prominent  part.  In  opposi- 
tion to  these  the  Manhattan  League,  one  of  the 
anti-secret  societies,  was  early  established,  and  later 
a  chapter  of  the  Delta  Upsilon.  For  the  present  the 
secret  societies  have  no  opposition  societies,  but  the 
one  evil  which  is  associated  with  them,  the  domination 
of  college  politics,  has  never  been  marked  in  the  City 
College.      The  most  distinctive  student  organization, 


z  a 

a  ° 

ri  a 

<.  •-< 

H  be 

^  . 

a  — 

|  t 

3  -d 

z  '3 

W  g 

X  5 


The  College  of  the  Past  55 

perhaps,  was  the  so-called  "Senate,"  which  was 
an  endeavor  by  the  present  writer  with  others  to 
establish,  in  1866,  a  form  of  self-government  among 
the  students,  which  afterwards  took  root  and  grew  to 
success  at  Amherst,  Michigan,  and  other  colleges.  This 
was  probably  the  first  attempt  of  the  kind;  but  it  was 
vigorously  repressed  by  the  first  president,  whose  mili- 
tary methods  permitted  of  no  democratic  independence. 
Among  Dr.  Finley's  recent  progressive  efforts  has  been 
the  re-establishment  of  this  old  idea  in  the  shape  of  a 
"students'  council."  This  is  composed  of  representa- 
tives from  all  the  college  classes,  and  already  it  takes 
no  small  part  in  the  control  and  guidance  of  the  student 
body.  The  Gamma  chapter  of  New  York  of  the  Phi 
Beta  Kappa  was  established  at  the  College  in  1868, 
only  Union  College  and  the  University  having  at  that 
time  chapters  of  this  venerable  but  not  very  secret 
society.  Soon  afterwards  the  Delta  chapter  was 
established  at  Columbia  and  now  a  number  of  the 
leading  colleges  of  the  State  have  charters  from  that 
honored 'fraternity  of  scholars. 

In  athletics  the  City  College  has  not  made  a  great 
name  for  itself.  Forty  years  since,  before  baseball 
had  become  professionalized,  its  nine  held  the  cham- 
pionship among  the  college  clubs  with  which  it  had 
come  in  contact,  and  the  Harlem  and  Passaic  rivers 
afforded  opportunity  for  very  amateurish  boat-clubs 
and  "excursions."  Twenty  years  ago  its  lacrosse 
team    stood     deservedly    prominent     among     college 


56  The  College  of  the  Past 

teams;  and  to-day  its  basket-ball  players  are 
achieving  a  temporary  glory.  But  the  fact  that  the 
College  recruits  itself  largely  from  the  poorer  classes 
has  perhaps  made  impossible  the  development  of  a 
set  of  men  who  could  give  themselves  chiefly  or 
largely  to  athletics.  Clubs  of  many  kinds,  for  music, 
chess,  cross-country  running,  natural  history,  etc., 
have  flourished  more  or  less. 

The  City  College,  though  it  has  never  attempted  a 
"school  of  journalism"  has  always. been  more  or  less 
a  school  for  journalists,  and  several  of  its  men  have 
gone  into  that  profession,  partly  as  a  result  of  their 
training  as  editors  of  college  publications.  The  "Cos- 
mopolitan" and  the  "Free  Academy  Monthly,"  pub- 
lished so  long  ago  as  1861,  were  among  the  earliest 
college  magazines,  and  'The  Collegian"  of  1866, 
conducted  by  the  present  writer,  was  one  of  the  earliest 
examples  of  modern  college  journalism  proper.  Another 
paper  of  the  same  name  was  started  in  1875,  and  in 
1876  "The  College  Echo"  was  issued.  None  of  these 
papers  survived  the  college  life  of  their  first  editors,  if 
so  long;  but  in  March,  1880,  appeared  the  first  issue  of 
"The  College  Mercury,"  which  is  still  in  existence  and 
which  has  been  one  of  the  most  creditable  of  college 
journals.  The  early  "Collegian"  and  the  later  "Mer- 
cury" both  showed  so  much  independence  that  their 
editors  were  more  or  less  subject  to  criticism  and  disci- 
pline of  the  authorities.  But  the  "Mercury"  has  now 
outlived  seven  college  generations  and  is  so  organized 


First  Floor  Corridor,  Looking  South. 
This  shows  the  heads  of  the  two  stairways  rising  from  the  basement. 
To  the  right  is  the  Trophy  Case  and  the  entrance  to  the  library 
and  offices.  Along  the  southward  corridor  are  the  frames  in  which 
students'  marks  were  formerly  posted.  Above  these  are  por- 
traits of  former  professors.  Overhead  is  the  ancient  bell,  to  ring 
which  was  once  the  highest  ambition  of    disorder. 


:7 


The  College  of  the  Past  59 


'S 


as  to  insure  a  safe  prospect  of  continuity.  Besides 
these  papers  the  College  has  had  an  unusual  number 
of  skits  and  burlesque  papers,  under  various  names, 
and  its  student  literature  also  includes  an  annual 
devoted  to  the  various  societies,  known  as  "The  Micro- 
cosm," and  a  considerable  supply  of  song-books,  bur- 
lesque programmes,  and  the  like.  It  is  a  pity  that  a 
full  collection  of  the  earlier  among  these  student  publi- 
cations was  not  preserved  in  the  college  library,  for  a 
first  aim  of  a  college  librarian  should  be  to  provide  the 
most  complete  collection  possible  of  the  student  as  well 
as  the  official  publications  of  the  college.  In  1904  was 
started  the  "  City  College  Quarterly,"  an  alumni  pub- 
lication of  which  Professor  Lewis  F.  Mott,  head  of  the 
department  of  English,  is  now  the  editor.  The  solid 
nature  of  the  Quarterly,  and  of  the  alumni  support 
behind  it,  gives  promise  of  its  permanence. 

The  College  is  very  large  in  numbers,  having  at  the 
fall  opening  in  1906  over  3,900  students.  The  lower 
classes  have  always  been  the  largest,  for  the  severity 
of  the  course  soon  results  in  the  "survival  of  the  fit- 
test" only.  It  takes  a  really  able  man  to  complete  the 
work.  Moreover,  this  decrease  in  numbers  is,  in  another 
sense,  an  essential  feature  of  the  relations  of  the  College 
to  the  community,  and  suggests  how  many  bovs  come 
to  it  for  such  collegiate  education  as  they  can  get,  and 
drop  out  necessarily  to  take  their  places  in  the  work-a- 
day  world.  The  College  gives  them  plentv  of  work 
while  thev  are  there,  for  one  of  its  statisticians  has  com- 


6o  The  College  of  the  Past 


&' 


puted  that  the  total  hours  of  actual  college  work,  namely 
2960  hours  in  the  four  collegiate  classes,  is  larger  in 
the  College  of  the  City  of  New  York  than  in  any  other 
American  institution.  Yet  many  of  the  students  earn 
their  education  by  the  hardest  kinds  of  work.  A  num- 
ber, of  course,  pursue  a  frequent  plan  of  college  students, 
in  giving  lessons  of  one  sort  or  another,  but  others 
among  past  or  present  students  have  really  lived  two 
lives,  one  of  study,  one  of  work.  One  student  earned 
his  living  by  a  milk  wagon  round  before  the  college  day 
opened;  another  sold  morning  papers;  another  notable 
example  acted  as  night  watchman  in  a  store  in  which 
he  lodged,  and  gave  private  lessons  to  earn  food  and 
clothes;  another  worked  half  the  night  in  the  post- 
office  and  yet  maintained  a  high  standing  in  his  class. 
Other  students,  as  waiters  in  summer  hotels  or  tele- 
graph operators  during  the  summer,  have  made  it 
possible  for  them  to  become  college  graduates.  The 
Associate  Alumni  as  an  organization  early  founded  a 
Students'  Aid  Fund,  which  is  in  the  hands  of  five 
trustees,  Professor  Compton,  Professor  Sim,  John 
Hardy,  Everett  P.  Wheeler,  and  Ferdinand  Shack. 
From  this  fund  loans  are  made  to  students,  to  be  re- 
paid in  later  life. 

The  college  year  runs  on  steadily,  with  a  break  for 
the  first  term  review  examinations,  until  it  culminates 
of  course  in  the  high  festival  of  Commencement  Week. 
This  is  enlivened  by  the  prize  debate  between  represen- 
tatives of  the  college  literary  societies,  by  the  prize 


First  Floor  Corridor.   Looking  toward  the  Library. 
Pictures  of  many  graduating  classes  are  grouped  along  the  walls.       Profes- 
sor Draper's  portrait  is  on  the  left.     At  the  extreme  end  is  the 
ancient  registrar's  "den." 


61 


The  College  of  the  Past  63 


'& 


speaking,  by  the  social  meeting  of  the  Associate  Alumni, 
and  by  Commencement  itself,  when  the  extraordinary 
number  of  prizes  and  medals  which  have  been  showered 
upon  the  College  by  would-be  benefactors  are  distributed 
from  the  stage  to  the  heroes  of  the  hour.  These  prizes 
include  gold  and  silver  Pell  medals,  for  general  profi- 
ciencv;  gold  and  silver  Cromwell  medals,  for  history 
and  belles-lettres;  the  twenty  bronze  Ward  medals; 
the  two  gold  Riggs  medals,  for  English  essays;  the  two 
gold  and  silver  Claflin  medals,  for  proficiency  in  the 
classics;  the  Ketchum  prizes,  for  excellence  in  philoso- 
phy; the  Devoe  prizes,  for  handicraft;  the  Mason 
Carnes  prizes,  for  translations  from  modern  dramatic 
literature,  and  other  prizes  almost  beyond  number. 
The  six  honor  men  who  represent  the  college  training 
as  orators  of  the  night  usually  show  to  the  large 
audiences  which  crowd  Carnegie  Hall  good  common- 
sense  results  of  their  course,  and  as  a  matter  of  fact 
few  citizens  of  New  York,  who  either  in  this  way  or  by 
more  careful  observation  learn  what  the  College  of  the 
City  of  New  York  really  is,  would  fail  to  desire  that 
this  institution  should  have  the  means  for  growth  and 
progress  which  will  keep  it  at  the  forefront  in  the 
work  which  it  has  been  organized  to  do. 


The  First  President 


65 


Horace  Webster— the  First  President 

Everett   P.  Wheeler,  '56 

T_J  GRACE  WEBSTER  was  the  first  president  of  the 
*  l  College  of  the  City  of  New  York,  which  in  his 
time  was  known  as  the  New  York  Free  Academy.  Its 
original  name  was  suggested  by  that  of  the  Military 
Academy  at  West  Point,  and  it  was  very  natural  that 
its  first  president  should  be  a  West  Point  man. 

Dr.  Webster  was  born  in  Hartford,  Vermont,  on  the 
21st  of  September,  1794.  This  little  village  stands  in 
the  beautiful  Connecticut  valley.  In  the  New  England 
States  at  that  time  Vermont  filled  the  place  which  was 
afterwards  taken  by  the  far  West,  and  enterprising 
emigrants,  especially  from  Connecticut,  Massachusetts, 
and  New  Hampshire,  found  their  way  into  the  fertile 
valleys  of  what  afterwards  became  the  Green  Mountain 
State.  Webster's  parents  were  of  this  hardy  and 
courageous  stock.  When  he  was  born  the  Constitution 
of  the  United  States  had  just  been  adopted.  Into  the 
more  perfect  Union  thus  effected  Vermont  was  ad- 
mitted in  1 79 1.  The  boy  grew  up  amidst  a  proud, 
high-spirited  race  of  mountaineers.     He  knew  the  men 

who  had  fought  at  Bennington  and  Saratoga  and  he 

67 


68        Horace  Webster — the  First  President 

learned  to  feel,  as  they  felt,  the  blessings  of  the  Union 
and  the  necessity  of  a  strong  central  government  which 
should  ensure  to  the  people  domestic  tranquillity  and 
efficient  administration. 

He  had  his  first  lessons  in  the  free  district  schools  of 
Vermont.  He  received  an  appointment  as  cadet  at 
West  Point  about  the  close  of  the  war  of  1812.  He 
graduated  in  1818  at  the  head  of  his  class  and  was 
appointed  assistant  professor  of  mathematics  in  the 
Military  Academy,  which  post  he  filled  until  1826. 
There  he  imbibed  those  lessons  ' '  of  work  done  squarely 
and  unwasted  days"  which  he  inculcated  in  the  Free 
Academy,  and  which  have  been  its  unbroken  tradition 
from  that  time  to  this. 

His  success  as  an  instructor  at  West  Point  was  so 
signal  that  in  1826  he  was  appointed  the  first  professor 
of  mathematics  and  intellectual  philosophy  at  Hobart, 
then  Geneva,  College,  which  place  he  filled  from  1826 
to  1848.  He  was  always  a  strict  disciplinarian,  and 
could  not  tolerate  any  neglect  or  indolence  in  his  stu- 
dents. In  his  sharp,  quick,  military  manner  he  would 
snap  up  the  man  who  came  to  the  class-room  without 
preparation,  except  that  derived  from  his  inner  con- 
sciousness. On  the  other  hand,  he  loved  the  faithful 
student,  encouraged  him  in  every  way,  and  was  always 
readv  after  graduation  by  every  means  in  his  power  t<  > 
aid  the  graduate  to  achieve  success. 

When  in  1848  the  Free  Academy  was  about  to  begin 
its   work,    the    Board    of   Education   selected    Horace 


(K^T-o-o-^vV^li-^-GO 


69 


Horace  Webster — the  First  President        71 

Webster  to  be  its  first  president.  He  served  the  city 
faithfully  in  this  capacity  for  twenty-one  years.  In 
1849  he  received  from  Columbia  College  the  degree  of 
Doctor  of  Laws.  He  was  made  Professor  of  Moral  and 
Intellectual  Philosophy  in  1851  and  was  the  instructor 
of  the  Senior  class  in  those  subjects,  as  well  as  in  the 
Constitution  of  the  United  States.  Moral  Philosophy 
he  taught  from  Wayland,  Intellectual  Philosophy  from 
Mahan.  The  latter  was  a  West  Point  man,  the  father  of 
Captain  Mahan  of  the  Navy-,  and  he  put  into  his  book  a 
clearness  of  statement  and  vigor  of  thought  that  were 
bracing  to  the  mind  of  the  student  and  harmonized 
well  with  Webster's  precision  and  thoroughness.  In- 
struction in  these  subjects  was,  however,  but  a  small 
part  of  the  activity  of  Dr.  Webster.  In  co-operation 
with  his  faculty  he  established  an  organization  and 
system  of  discipline,  the  object  of  which  was  to  bring 
into  harmonious  activity  the  boys  who  came  from  the 
public  schools,  and  to  set  before  them  such  a  standard 
of  excellence,  both  moral  and  intellectual,  as  should 
develop  their  characters  and  make  them  fit  for  the 
conflict  of  life.     In  this  he  certainly  succeeded. 

He  was  the  soul  of  honor  and  integrity,  and  he 
taught  his  students  to  feel  that  their  aim  should  be 
"to  maintain  the  honor  of  the  flag";  to  scorn  every- 
thing that  was  mean,  and  to  do  their  duty  as  good 
citizens  and  true  men. 

The  curriculum  of  the  City  College  has  alwavs 
been  exacting.    To  a  degree  unusual  in  colleges,  it  has 


72        Horace  Webster — the  First  President 

combined  instruction  in  the  sciences,  with  classical  and 
literary  training.  This  combination  has  in  practice 
proved  most  useful.  No  college  has  produced  a  larger 
proportion  of  manly  and  efficient  citizens.  Much  of  the 
honor  is  due  to  the  skill  with  which  Webster  planned 
the  course  and  the  fidelity  with  which  he  administered 
his  office. 

His  faults  were  the  defects  of  his  qualities.  He  was 
sometimes  too  much  of  a  martinet,  too  precise  in  little 
things,  but  he  was  always  just,  would  always  listen  to 
what  the  student  had  to  say,  and  did  aim  to  stir  up  all 
that  was  manly  in  the  breast  of  the  young  man.  The 
ground  of  his  character  was  his  religious  spirit.  He 
was  unobtrusive  in  this,  but  loyal  and  sincere.  He  was 
for  twenty  years  a  communicant  in  St.  George's  Epis- 
copal Church,  and  for  several  of  those  years  was  a 
Vestryman  and  Superintendent  of  the  Sunday  School. 
The  distinctive  principles  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ 
were  dear  to  him  and  he  strove  to  embody  them  in  his 
life. 

In  1869  he  gave  up  his  active  participation  in  the 
college  work  and  retired  to  Geneva,  where  he  died  July 
12,  1871. 

Dr.  Webster  married  Sarah  M.  Fowler  of  Albany, 
March  28,  1827.  They  had  three  children  who  grew 
to  maturity:  Horace,  who  was  born  in  1832  and  died 
in  China  in  1865;  Margaret  Stevenson,  who  was  born 
in  1840  and  died  in  1903 ;  and  Edward  Bayard,  born  in 
1842,  who  is  still  living  in  Geneva. 


The  Library  Corridor,  Looking  East. 

A  reverse  view  of  the  earlier  picture.      The  entrance  to  the  library  is  in  the 

fore-ground  to  the  right  and  the  president's  office  to  the  left. 


73 


Horace  Webster — the  First  President       75 

The  resolutions  adopted  by  the  class  of  1872, 
November  17,  187 1,  are  worth  preserving: 

We,  members  of  the  class  of  '72,  now  the  last  in  college  who 
have  enjoyed  the  benefits  of  Dr.  Webster's  administration,  would 
express  our  sorrow  for  his  death,  and  our  appreciation  of  his 
many  admirable  qualities. 

In  the  course  of  twenty-one  years  of  generous  labor,  he  had 
so  identified  himself  with  the  College,  that  his  loss  is  sincerely 
regretted,  and  it  is  in  recognition  of  his  worth  and  of  our  regard, 
that,  in  this  memorial,  we  would  recall  the  career  of  one  whose 
memory  we  cherish,  and  whose  influence,  wherever  exerted,  has 
left  its  indelible  impression. 

Recognizing  in  his  devotion  to  the  interests  of  education,  in 
his  fidelity  to  his  trust,  and  in  his  sterling  excellence,  a  life  well 
spent,  we  would  reverence  his  memory  and  "  be  of  good  cheer; 
for  he  hath  prevailed." 

In  behalf  of  the  class,         H.  D.  Cooper, 

H.  van  Kleek, 
S.  J.  Strauss, 
J.  B.  McMaster, 
R.  van  Saxtvoord. 

A  public  meeting  in  commemoration  of  his  services 
in  the  cause  of  education  was  held  in  St.  George's 
Church,  November  17,  187 1.  Addresses  were  made  by 
the  pastor,  who  was  familiarly  known  to  many  of  the 
men  of  his  time  as  "Old  Dr.  Tyng,"  and  also  by  the 
Chancellor  of  the  University,  Dr.  Howard  Crosby. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  better  statement  of  his  char- 
acter than  that  given  by  another  West  Point  professor, 
Davies: 


76       Horace  Webster — the  First  President 

Few  men  have  left  behind  them  a  nobler  record.  He  had  a 
great  work  assigned  him,  and  he  lived  long  enough  to  perfect  it. 
He  will  be  long  remembered  as  an  able  educator.  His  academic 
life  was  marked  by  a  love  of  knowledge,  which  grew  and  strength- 
ened with  his  years;  by  habits  of  study,  early  formed  and  long 
continued;  by  a  firm  and  gentle  manner,  which  commanded 
obedience  and  won  regard ;  by  a  sense  of  justice  never  weakened 
by  fickleness  or  passion;  and  by  a  punctuality  in  the  discharge 
of  every  duty  which  was  an  admonition  to  the  heedless,  an 
encouragement  to  the  orderly,  and  a  beautiful  example  to  all. 

This  notice  would  be  incomplete  without  reprinting 
from  the  "  Hobart  Herald"  an  amusing  incident  of 
Webster's  professorship  there: 

In  the  morning,  both  summer  and  winter,  all  the  students 
were  rung  up  to  prayers  in  the  chapel  and  for  a  recitation  before 
breakfast.  But  there  was  an  occasion  when  the  morning  prayer 
was  made  to  suffer.  It  was  a  bright  summer  morning  when  the 
sleepyheads  appeared  in  the  chapel  in  their  usual  hasty  toilet 
of  the  early  hour.  But  the  sleepyheads  were  suddenly  waked 
up  and  the  eyes  were  opened  quick  and  wide  at  the  spectacle 
which  saluted  them.  For  behind  the  breastwork  on  the  platform 
stood  tied  as  in  a  stall,  an  old  street  horse.  Outside  and  in  front 
of  him  sat  the  faculty,  Prof.  Webster  in  their  midst.  He  looked 
with  his  thought-reading  eyes  at  the  students  as  they  came  in, 
one  by  one,  and  wholly  ignored  the  presence  of  the  quadruped 
behind  him.  As  for  the  students,  they  looked  only  at  the  horse. 
Prof.  Webster  was  a  West  Point  disciplinarian,  and  as  though 
nothing  was  more  agreeable  to  him  than  to  have  a  horse  there, 
he  proceeded  with  the  morning  devotions.  The  recitation 
followed  the  prayers,  every  man  carefully  and  innocently  in  his 
place.    After  breakfast,  it  was  felt  that  something  must  be  done. 


The   Library,  West   End. 
The  main  part  of  the  library,  choked  with  books  and  cases,  lies  to  the  left. 
The  distributing  desk  and  shelves  of  the  deputy  librarian,  Mr.  Bliss,  are 
in  the  background.     It  is  there  that  everybody  applies  for  information 
of  every  kind. 


77 


Horace  Webster — the  First  President       79 

Strengthened  by  the  matutinal  meal,  all  gathered  together  in  the 
chapel  to  do  it.  And  so  the  poor  animal  was  led  by  the  halter 
to  the  hall  and  fairly,  but  with  difficulty,  "  graduated"  hind  end 
foremost  down  the  stairs  and  into  the  open.  The  feat  was 
accomplished  with  hearty  cheers  for  the  only  horse  among  the 
many  of  a  longer-eared  race  that  had  gone  through  college. 

It  seems  also  appropriate  to  add  to  this  notice  a 
characteristic  letter  from  Geneva  which  he  wrote  to 
James  R.  Doolittle,  who  afterwards  became  United 
States  Senator  from  Wisconsin: 

My  dear  young  Friend: 

I  have  just  had  the  pleasure  of  receiving  your  letter  of  the 
19th  inst.,  requesting  my  assistance  in  getting  you  a  situation  in 
New  York,  etc.  I  will  write  to  Mr.  Foot,  as  you  desire,  imme- 
diately, and  communicate  you  the  result  when  received. 

There  are  a  great  variety  of  openings  in  New  York,  yet  if 
they  are  desirable  and  such  as  a  young  man  of  talents  and 
acquirement  would  desire  to  occupy,  they  are  almost  immediately 
rilled  by  young  men  in  the  city,  or  in  the  neighboring  vicinity; 
besides  the  influx  of  foreigners  is  so  great  at  this  time  that  even 
those  who  are  well  educated  solicit  places  temporarily  for  a  bare 
subsistence  and  submit  to  impositions  which  one  who  has 
breathed  the  independent  country  atmosphere  could  never  do. 
I  mention  this  to  you  lest  you  be  too  sanguine  in  your  expecta- 
tions and  finally  fail.  I  shall  give  Mr.  F.  such  a  recommendation 
of  your  capacity  and  integrity  that  no  doubt  he  will  exert  him- 
self much  for  you;  perhaps  he  may  desire  a  clerk  in  his  own 
office.  Would  it  not  be  best  for  you  to  spend  two  years  in  the 
country  in  a  law  office  and  the  last  year  in  the  city?  I  am  by  no 
means  decided  in  my  own  mind,  whether  I  would  advise  a  young 
man  to  go  to  the  city  for  employment ;   quite  half  that  go  there 


8o       Horace  Webster — The  First  President 

from  the  country  are  ruined.  A  young  man  of  industry  and 
correct  habits  will  succeed  anywhere  and  be  distinguished,  yet 
it  is  true  the  field  is  rather  more  extensive  in  the  city  than  in  the 
country,  still  the  chances  for  failure  are  greater  in  the  former 
than  in  the  latter. 

Be  moderate  in  your  expectations,  yet  severe  in  your  atten- 
tion to  duty  in  whatever  situation  you  may  be  placed,  and  suc- 
cess must  attend  you. 

We  have  thirty  scholars  in  the  College  at  present ;  ten  in  the 
Freshman  class.  Our  medical  school  goes  into  operation  in 
February.  With  this  I  send  you  a  catalogue  of  officers,  etc.  I 
shall  be  very  glad  to  hear  from  you  frequently  and  be  useful  to 
you  in  any  manner  in  my  power. 

Please  circulate  our  course  of  studies. 

Your  friend,  etc., 

Horace  Webster. 

As  I  close  this  memorial  I  seem  to  see  our  old 
"Prex,"  standing  on  the  platform  of  the  Gothic  chapel, 
at  the  top  of  the  Dutch  stadthaus,  that  was  the  first 
home  of  the  Free  Academy,  and  which  we  soon  are  to 
leave.  He  was  tall,  broad-shouldered,  with  erect,  mil- 
itary figure.  His  voice  was  clear  and  not  unmelodious. 
He  read  the  selection  from  Scripture  (often  from  the 
book  of  Proverbs)  with  a  decisive  intonation  that 
showed  he  felt  it  to  be  the  very  word  of  command.  We 
dispersed  to  our  recitation-rooms,  which  then  were  com- 
modious. The  total  number  of  students  in  my  time 
was  less  than  five  hundred,  and  there  was  room  for  all. 
The  old  Doctor's  minute  requirements  were  often  irk- 
some.    But  all  were  proud  to  have  such  a  fine  looking 


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Horace  Webster — the  First  President      83 

gentleman  to  preside  on  public  occasions.  We  attache  1 
to  him  the  mot  that  first  was  applied  to  Lord  Thur- 
1<  >\v — No  one  was  ever  so  wise  as  the  Doctor  looked. 
Even  those  who  most  were  irked  by  his  discipline 
could  not,  in  their  hearts,  but  respect  his  integrity 
and  simplicity  of  character.     Blessed  be  his  memory. 


The    First   Faculty 


85 


The  First  Faculty 

Alfred   G.  Compton,  '53 

/~\N  the  27th  of  January,  1849,  the  New  York  Free 
^-^  Academy  was  opened  to  the  people  of  the  City 
of  New  York  with  public  exercises  in  the  chapel  of  its 
recently  finished  building.  On  this  occasion  Mr.  Robert 
Kelly,  the  President  of  the  Board  of  Education,  intro- 
duced to  the  audience  the  first  Faculty  of  the  Free 
Academy,  consisting  of  the  following  gentlemen: 

Horace  Webster,  LL.D.,  Principal. 

Edward  C.  Ross,  Professor  of  Mathematics  and 
Natural  Philosophy. 

Gerardus  B.  Docharty,  Assistant  Professor  of  Mathe- 
matics and  Natural  Philosophy. 

Theodore  Irving,  Professor  of  History  and  Belles- 
Lettres. 

John  J.  Owen,  D.D.,  Professor  of  the  Latin  and 
Greek  Languages  and  Literature. 

Oliver  W.  Gibbs,  Professor  of  Chemistry. 

Jean  Roemer,  Professor  of  the  French  Language. 

Agustin  J.  Morales,  Professor  of  the  Spanish 
Language. 

Theodore  Glaubensklee,   Professor  of  the  German 

Language  and  Literature. 

37 


88  The  First  Faculty 

Paul  P.  Duggan,  Professor  of  Drawing. 

These  are  the  men  who  are  always  in  mind  when 
any  student  of  the  first  three  or  four  classes  speaks  of 
the  Faculty,  and  the  addition  of  Professors  Nichols, 
Benedict,  Barton,  Anthon,  Koerner,  and  Doremus  and 
their  successors  extends  the  old  Faculty  down  to  the 
mid-way  Faculty,  and  so  on  continuously  down  to  the 
Faculty  of  thirty-one  members  of  the  present  day.  Of 
this  first  Faculty,  at  whose  feet  I  sat  for  four  years 
and  whose  friendship  I  enjoyed  till  the  days  of  their 
deaths,  I  have  been  asked  to  give  such  account  as  I  can. 

Horace  Webster  was  a  man  of  strong  and  imposing 
aspect,  with  thin  lips,  lofty  forehead,  piercing  eye,  and 
erect  carriage,  wearing  the  air  of  a  master.  And  a 
master  he  was,  at  least  of  the  students,  for  man}-  years 
from  that  winter  of  1849.  He  was  not  a  great  orator; 
his  speech  was  crisp,  exclamatory,  blunt  in  figures, 
devoid  of  ornament.  But  as  a  giver  of  laws  he  was 
respected  and  obeyed.  It  must  not  be  imagined  that 
the  boys  never  outwitted  him.  They  did  sometimes — 
but  they  often  thought  they  did,  when  he  knew  very 
well  what  they  were  about.  When  he  walked  one  day 
into  the  drawing-room  and  found  the  assembled  plaster 
gods  and  heroes,  from  Ulysses  down  to  Dante,  each  with 
a  clay  pipe  in  his  mouth,  his  turning  out  of  the  room 
without  a  word  was  not  because  he  did  not  note  the 
undignified  demeanor  of  the  gods,  but  partly,  I  think, 
because  he  did  not  choose  to  enter  on  a  hopeless  inquiry, 
and  still  more  because  he  was  almost  exploding  with 


Prof.  Ross  in  '50. 
Prof.  Roemer  IN  '58. 
Prof.  Gibbs  in  '63. 


Prof.  Glaubenskee  in  '58. 
Vice.  Pres.  Owen  in  '5S. 
Prof.  Docharty  in  '58. 

Sq 


Prof.  Irving  in  '52. 
Prof.  Morales  in  '58. 
Prof.  Duggan  in  '60. 


The  First  Faculty  91 

mirth  which  he  wished  to  conceal.  This  tact  was,  I 
believe,  as  important  a  factor  in  his  discipline,  especially 
during  the  earlier  years  of  his  government,  as  his  firm- 
ness, and  many  instances  might  be  cited  in  which  the 
just  balance  of  these  two  traits  was  shown. 

Dr.  Owen,  I  think,  was  not  famous  like  his  president, 
for  strenuous  government.  I  speak  here,  not  from  my 
own  observation,  for  this  is  the  one  member  of  the  old 
Faculty  in  whose  class  I  never  sat.  He  governed  by  con- 
cession. I  never  heard  that  he  gave  "demerits,"  though 
I  suppose  he  did,  for  that  was  the  established  mode  of 
government  in  those  early  days.  I  imagine  that  he 
looked  at  an  offending  boy,  and  brought  him  to  order 
by  a  few  serious  words,  accompanied  and  emphasized 
by  the  ominous  waving  of  his  long  index  finger.  For 
that  finger  certainly  did  wave,  at  times,  in  an  impres- 
sive manner.  Often  have  I  heard  one  or  another  of  his 
pupils  quote: 

"  Honor  and  fame  from  no  condition  rise; 
Act  well  your  part,  'tis  there  the  honor  lies," 

swaying  his  index  finger  in  imitation  of  his  master 
and  fashioning  his  voice  in  supposed  likeness  of 
the  master's  orotund  speech.  But  Owen  was  not  a 
gay  man,  even  by  contrast  with  Webster,  and  Webster 
with  all  his  apparent  austerity  had  far  more  fun  in  his 
temper.  Owen  was  a  scholar  and  a  clergyman,  and  he 
wore  something  of  the  seriousness  of  both. 

Ross  was  different  from  both  of  these.    Tall,  a  little 


92  The  First  Faculty 

awkward,  but  erect  and  dignified,  with  a  forehead  like 
an  imposing  dome,  and  a  keen  eye  which  held  you  with 
a  kindly  glance,  he  was,  during  the  short  period  of  his 
academic  life,  the  favorite  of  the  students.  He  taught 
in  the  Academy  only  two  years  and  three  months,  when 
he  died,  at  the  age  of  fifty-one,  after  only  a  week's  ill- 
ness, and  in  the  prime  of  his  life  and  strength.  He  was 
personally  known  only  to  the  classes  of  '53  and  '54  and 
a  part  of  the  class  of  '55;  but  his  name  was  in  the 
mouths  of  later  classes  than  these,  as  if  they  themselves 
had  personally  known  and  loved  him.  What  they  used 
to  say  of  him  was  that  he  made  the  rough  places  of  the 
mathematics  smooth,  that  the  dull  boy  especially  he 
led  up  the  steep  paths,  trusting  in  the  ability  of  the  able 
student  to  get  up  with  anybody's  help,  or  even  with 
none,  that  he  kept  no  count  of  time,  but  was  ready 
with  effective  help  whenever  and  wherever  it  was 
asked,  that  he  was  always  full  of  interest  in  his  pupils, 
in  their  past  achievements  and  in  the  promise  of  their 
future  career;  he  was  not  only  a  great  teacher,  but  he 
was  the  students'  friend. 

Ross  was  professor,  not  of  Mathematics  only,  but 
of  Natural  Philosophy,  which  was  the  name  in  those 
days  for  what  we  now  call  Physics.  He  died  before 
the  teaching  of  Physics  began,  and  his  place  was  filled 
by  another  West  Point  man,  Lieut.,  afterwards  Gen. 
W.  B.  Franklin.  He  accepted  the  position,  during  a 
furlough  from  West  Point,  and  was  succeeded  by  John 
A.    Nichols,    after  having  filled  the  chair   only  a  few 


The  President's  Office,  Looking  North 
The  judgment-seat  stood  facing  the  door  in  General  Webb's  day  and  the 
General  sat  underneath  where  his  portrait  now  hangs.  In  the 
anteroom  we  see  to  the  left  the  remarkable  electric  clock,  which  is 
fabled  to  move  slower  than  any  other  in  the  city.  To  the  right  is 
the  most  used  telephone  in  Xew  York. 


93 


The  First  Faculty  95 

months;  but  this  short  time  was  long  enough  for  him  to 
inspire  the  Senior  class  with  a  deep  respect.  His  man- 
ner was  quick,  sharp,  decisive,  his  questions  were  rapid 
and  searching,  and  his  tolerance  for  dullness  and  slow- 
ness was  small.  He  returned  to  his  work  at  West 
Point  leaving  a  name  spoken  of  with  admiration  by 
the  few  who  knew  him. 

Nichols,  who  followed  him,  though  not  from  West 
Point,  was  appointed  on  the  recommendation  of  Pro- 
fessor Davies,  and  continued  the  West  Point  influence 
on  our  mathematical  teaching.  He  was  a  perennial 
spring  of  kindness  and  good  temper,  yet  he  could  lose 
patience  once  in  a  while  under  adequate  provocation. 
He  would  spend  any  amount  of  time  on  the  difficulties 
of  Bartlett's  "Analytical  Mechanics,"  a  tough  volume 
just  introduced  from  West  Point  where  it  was  born,  and 
he  had  plentiful  sympathy  with  those  who  could  not  see 
through  all  its  puzzles  at  the  first  trial,  though  very 
little  with  those  who  made  no  trial.  The  pleasant 
influence  of  his  sweet  temper  and  kindly  voice  were  with 
us  till  the  fall  of  '68,  when  he  died,  after  a  long  struggle 
with  consumption,  and  he  bridged  over  the  space  from 
the  Old  Faculty  to  the  New. 

"  The  pirate  Gibbs, "  as  the  much  admired  Professor 
of  Chemistry  was  approvingly  called  by  his  pupils,  was 
perhaps  the  strongest  man  in  the  Old  Faculty,  and  he 
is  the  only  one  who  still  lives.  Black-haired,  black 
bearded,  black  eye-browed  and  moustached,  tall,  erect, 
quiet,  firm,  he  was  known  to  us  all  as  a  man  devoted 


96  The  First  Faculty 

to  scientific  research,  not  very  fond  of  teaching,  but 
teaching  clearly  and  well,  marking  severely  but  fairly, 
looking  on  the  lecture-room  demonstrations  which  used 
to  be  called  "experiments"  with  mildly  tolerant 
impatience  and  not  infrequently  apologizing  for  their 
failure  after  they  had  been  carefully  prepared.  From 
his  chemical  lecture-room,  which  was  the  identical 
lecture-room  of  to-day,  he  retreated  to  his  little  labora- 
tory under  it  on  the  basement  floor,  where  all  metallic 
things  rusted, — even  aluminium  and  gold  ones  I  believe, 
—and  we  wondered  where  and  how  he  brought  forth 
those  chemical  laws  enunciated  in  his  papers  on  the 
"  Cobalt  bases"  and  so  on,  whose  titles  mystified  us,  his 
pupils,  but  inspired  the  respect  of  his  scientific  col- 
leagues throughout  the  land.  When  invited  to  Harvard 
he  exchanged  the  teaching  of  the  rudiments  of  chem- 
istrv  for  the  investigation  of  its  laws,  and  has  since 
been  living  the  life  he  dreamed  of  in  his  youth. 

Gerardus  B.  Docharty  was  not  the  solemn  and  for- 
midable mathematician  his  first  name  might  suggest, 
but  rather  more  the  joking,  hilarious  Irish  gentleman 
prefigured  in  the  second.  In  his  eye  was  always  a 
mischievous  smile,  on  his  tongue  a  joke  or  a  "sell." 
He  was  always  reach'  to  help  inquiring  students  over 
rough  places  in  their  Latin,  or  their  French,  and  they, 
on  the  other  hand,  often  carried  to  their  Latin  teachers 
such  puzzles  as  "Gallus  tuus  ego  et  nunquam  animam," 
which  after  brief  inspection  were  declared  to  be  "some 
of  Dochartv's  nonsense."     He  was  a  good  though  not 


H 


- 


The  First  Faculty  99 

perhaps  a  great  teacher;  but  the  boys  loved  him  for 
his  geniality  and  good  nature  and  his  patience  with 
their  blunderings,  and  cheerfully  pardoned  the  rude 
treatment  the  skin  of  their  faces  sometimes  received 
when  he  took  a  head  between  his  hands  and  scoured 
a  tender  cheek  with  his  scrubby  gray  beard. 

What  a  contrast  to  Docharty  was  Theodore  Irving, 
nephew  of  the  classical  Washington  Irving.  A  clergy- 
man, with  the  manners  of  a  well-bred  and  well-trained 
rector  of  the  Church  of  England,  a  well-dressed,  cour- 
teous, well-spoken  gentleman,  never  hurried,  never 
impatient,  never,  I  think,  very  enthusiastic,  he  neither 
over-stimulated  nor  discouraged  his  pupils,  and  I  do 
not  remember  ever  to  have  heard  of  or  seen  any  dis- 
order, however  slight,  in  his  room, — a  trait  however, 
that  he  shared  with  almost  every  other  member  of  the 
Faculty. 

I  think  we  all  felt  that  our  Professor  of  Drawing, 
the  lightly  built  Irish  artist  with  graceful  figure  and 
movements,  sharply  but  not  cruelly  biting  critical 
tongue,  and  clear  incisive  speech,  was  most  conspicu- 
ously, of  all  this  Council  of  Ten,  the  man  of  his  profes- 
sion. He  developed,  we  men  who  could  not  draw  used 
to  think,  most  astonishingly  the  skill  which  seemed 
natural  to  some.  Their  large  highly  finished  drawings, 
often  from  the  flat,  but  also  often  from  the  heroic  casts 
on  our  walls,  and  still  more  the  white  chalk  figures  of 
the  same  on  the  blackboards,  sometimes  the  full 
height  of  the  board,  used  to  fill  us  poor  bunglers  with 


ioo  The  First  Faculty 

wonder  and  envy;  but  we  never  thought  of  blaming 
him  for  that  our  bungling  still  went  on.  He  gave  us 
some  hints  on  architecture  which  we  always  remem- 
bered, pointed  out  some  buildings  that  we  alwavs 
admired,  and  he  made  himself  in  art  our  master,  as 
Ross  did  in  mathematics,  and  Roemer  in  French. 

Our  three  masters  in  modern  languages  were  as 
unlike  as  it  was  possible  for  three  teachers  to  be.  Roe- 
mer was  really  a  "master"  in  all  senses,  a  strong, 
firm,  self-reliant  man,  never  harboring  any  fears  or 
misgivings — or  perhaps  rather,  never  showing  any,  for 
I  have  a  notion  that  the  strongest  men  have  fits  of 
timidity  sometimes, — a  man  of  the  world,  who  impressed 
us  with  the  feeling  that  he  had  seen  all  things,  and  done 
all  things,  and  that  he  knew  all  things.  We  felt  that  he 
was  a  leader  of  men,  that  he  had  the  art  of  impressing 
his  opinions  on  them,  and  of  taking  up  and  supporting 
their  opinions  in  such  a  way  as  to  assist  in  making  them 
effective — and  when  we  afterwards  became  acquainted 
with  him  as  a  colleague,  our  estimate  of  him  was  con- 
firmed; we  recognized  him  as  a  leader  in  the  Faculty. 
a  power  in  the  government  of  the  College. 

Such  was  not  his  mild  little  colleague  Professor 
Morales.  A  timid,  polite,  yielding  man,  he  was  essen- 
tially a  f<  >11<  wer,  as  Roemer  was  a  leader.  He  was  the 
very  soul  of  kindness  and  goodness  of  heart,  to  stu- 
dents as  well  as  to  colleagues.  His  rebukes  to  imper- 
fect students  were  mild  expostulations  rather  than 
harsh  censures,  and  almost  anv  kind  of  recitation  would 


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The  First  Faculty 


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command  a  passing  mark.  And  yet  it  was  always  pos- 
sible to  learn  Spanish  from  him  if  one  would,  and  many 
graduates  of  the  College  have  profited  greatly  by  his 
instruction.  He  was  a  man  of  the  gentlest  and  politest 
manners,  a  musician  of  considerable  skill,  even  in  com- 
position, a  writer  who  produced  small  plays  for  his 
pupils  to  perform  and  text-books  from  which  they 
might  learn,  and  a  teacher  who  was  beloved,  not  only 
by  his  best  pupils,  but  even  by  the  mischievous  ones 
who  played  tricks  on  him. 

Glaubensklee,  the  Professor  of  German,  was  cast  in 
a  heavier  and  rougher  mould.  Like  Gibbs,  he  never  was 
fooled  or  imposed  on  by  students.  His  mastery  was 
differently  based  however.  When  Gibbs  came  into  a 
large  study-room  where  three  or  four  sections  of  stu- 
dents were  ready  for  fun  with  any  one  who  was  afraid 
of  them,  with  a  scientific  periodical  or  volume  in  his 
hand,  he  sat  down  and  worked  as  if  there  were  no  boys 
there;  but  if  student  Smith  began  to  talk  to  student 
Jones,  Gibbs  never  failed  to  note  it,  and  to  bring  both, 
and  all  other  whisperers,  to  sudden  order  by  the  cry, 
almost  without  raising  his  eye  from  his  book,  "Stop 
talking  there,  Smith. "  The  boys  were  convinced  that 
he  had  some  inscrutable  means  of  detecting  disorder, 
and  very  soon  gave  up  venturing  to  try  it.  Glaubens- 
klee commanded  order  just  as  easily,  but  more  I  think 
by  the  friendly  bonhomie  with  which  he  was  always 
ready  to  chat  with  them  when  off  duty,  either  in  the 
recitation-room,  or  wherever  he  chanced  to  meet  them. 


104  The  First  Faculty 

On  the  whole,  this  Faculty  of  the  old  College  was 
a  strong  body  of  men.  There  were  among  them  sub- 
stantial scholars,  great  teachers,  polished  gentlemen, 
men  of  the  world,  strict  disciplinarians  who  never 
allowed  the  least  disorder,  kindly  governors  with  whom 
no  student  ever  thought  of  disorder.  The  students 
respected  them,  in  general  loved  them,  studied  for 
them,  learned  cf  them.  Their  departments  were  not 
so  widely  expanded  as  they  have  since  become,  their 
course  of  studies  was  not  so  broadly  laid  out,  but  the)' 
gave  a  broad  general  training  with  but  little  election, 
which  was  recognized  in  those  days  as  preparing  young 
men  to  do  their  duty  in  whatever  career  they  might  be 
called  to  follow.  The  Old  Faculty  left  its  perma- 
nent mark  on  the  reputation  and  the  traditions  of  the 
College. 


The   Second  President 


105 


The  Second  President 

Charles  E.  Lydecker,  '71 

A  LEXANDER  STEWART  WEBB,  second  president 
of  the  College  of  the  City  of  New  York,  was  born 
in  New  York  City,  February  15,  1835.  His  father  was 
James  Watson  Webb,  editor  for  many  years  of  the 
Courier  and  Enquirer;  a  man  of  striking  appearance, 
who  bore  out  some  of  the  so-called  fire-eating  tra- 
ditions of  the  fifties,  in  his  newspaper  career.  He 
was  an  officer  in  the  U.  S.  Army,  serving  in  the  infantry 
and  artillery  over  nine  years,  was  U.  S.  Minister  to 
Brazil  from  1861  to  1869,  and  author  of  the  famous 
flag  order,  then  promulgated.  His  grandfather  was 
Samuel  Blatchley  Webb,  an  aide-de-camp  on 
the  staff  of  General  Washington,  who  served  from 
Lexington  until  he  was  captured,  and  remained  a  pris- 
oner of  war  from  1777  to  1780,  when  he  was  released 
and  commissioned  Brigadier-General.  His  house  in 
Connecticut  was  the  meeting  place  of  many  distin- 
guished men. 

Our  president  was  educated  at  private  schools,  and 


108  The  Second  President 

entered  West  Point  in  1 85 1 ,  from  which  he  was  gradu- 
ated in  the  class  of  1855,  along  with  Gen.  George  D. 
Ruggles,  Gen.  A.  T.  A.  Torbert,  Gen.  Wm.  B.  Hazen, 
and  other  able  soldiers. 

Within  a  few  weeks  after  graduation,  he  was  en- 
gaged in  putting  down  the  Seminole  Indians  in  Florida, 
as  an  officer  of  artillery,  and  had  some  of  the  most 
exciting  experiences  of  his  life. 

After  service  in  Minnesota,  he  became  assistant 
professor  of  mathematics  at  the  U.  S.  Military  Acad- 
emy at  West  Point,  and  junior  officer  in  Griffin's 
West  Point  Battery.  Assigned  by  his  regimental  com- 
mander to  Light  Battery  "A,"  2d  U.  S.  Artillery, 
April  1,  1 86 1,  he  proceeded  under  orders  from  the  War 
Department  with  the  battery,  Capt.  W.  F.  Barry  com- 
manding, to  Fort  Pickens,  Santa  Rosa  Island,  Flor- 
ida. He  was  present  at  the  first  battle  of  Bull  Run, 
and  later  accepted  the  appointment  of  Captain  in  the 
nth  U.  S.  Infantry.  In  August  he  was  ordered  to 
report  for  duty  in  the  Artillery  Department  of  the 
army  afterwards  designated  the  "Army  of  the  Poto- 
mac." Later  in  the  same  year,  he  was  mustered  into 
the  U.  S.  service  as  Major,  1st  Rhode  Island  Light 
Artillery,  and  remained  on  duty  at  headquarters,  Army 
of  the  Potomac,  as  assistant  to  the  Chief  of  Artillery, 
until  appointed  by  the  President,  Assistant  Inspector- 
General  of  the  5th  Corps,  with  the  rank  of  Lieutenant- 
Colonel,  August  30,  1862. 

He  was  Assistant  Inspector-General   and  Chief  of 


^^L<e^^r^? 


109 


The  Second  President  in 

Staff  of  5th  Corps,  to  November,  1862,  when  he  was 
assigned  to  duty  with  Brigadier-General  W.  F.  Barry, 
Inspector  of  Artillery.  He  remained  on  duty  in  the 
City  of  Washington,  as  Inspector  of  the  Artillery  Camp 
of  Instruction,  Camp  Barry.  D.  C,  until  January  18, 
1863  when  he  rejoined  the  5  th  Corps  as  Assistant 
Inspector- General,  reporting  to  Major- General  George 
G.  Meade. 

On  June  21,  1863,  he  was  appointed  a  Brigadier- 
General  of  Volunteers,  and  was  assigned  to  duty  with 
the  2d  Brigade,  2d  Division,  2d  Army  Corps,  assum- 
ing command  of  that  brigade  the  same  evening. 

He  was  in  command  of  the  2d  Brigade  until  August 
nth;  he  then  became  temporary  commander  of  the 
Division,  which  command  he  held  until  September  5th, 
when  he  became  its  commander  permanently,  and  so 
continued  after  its  consolidation  until  incapacitated. 

Severely  wounded  in  the  terrible  conflict  at  Spott- 
sylvania,  May  12,  1864,  he  was  absent  sick  to  June  21, 
1864,  when  he  was  detailed  to  recruiting  and  court- 
martial  duty  to  January,  1865.  He  then  served  as 
Chief  of  Staff  to  General  G.  G.  Meade,  Army  of  the 
Potomac,  to  June  28. 1865,  and  then  as  Acting  Inspector- 
General,  Division  of  the  Atlantic,  to  February  21, 
1866. 

He  returned  to  West  Point  as  assistant  professor, 
July  1,  1866,  and  remained  thereuntil  October  21,  1868, 
as  instructor  in  Constitutional  and  International 
Law. 


ii2  The  Second  President 

From  March  4,  1861,  he  was  present  at  the  follow- 
ing battles  and  engagements: 

"Yorktown,"  as  Assistant  to  Chief  of  Artillery, 
Army  of  the  Potomac. 

" Mechanics ville"  (first).  Acting  Aide-de-Camp  to 
General  Stoneman. 

"Hanover  C.  H.,"  assigned  to  duty  on  Staff  of  Gen- 
eral Porter,  temporarily,  by  order  of  Major-General 
McClellan. 

"Gaines  Mill,"  General  Staff,  assigned  to  General 
Porter's  Staff,  Army  of  the  Potomac. 

"Seven  Days,"  General  Staff,  assigned  to  General 
Porter's  Staff,  Arm}'  of  the  Potomac. 

"Antietam,"  Chief  of  Staff,  5th  Corps. 

"  Shepherdstown"  affair,  Chief  of  Staff,  5  th  Army 
Corps. 

' '  Snickers'  Gap"  affair,  Chief  of  Staff,  5  th  Army  Corps. 

"Chancellorsville,"  Inspector-General,  5th  Corps. 

"Gettysburg."  Brigadier- General  commanding  2d 
Brigade,  2d  Division,  2d  Army  Coq^s. 

"Bristow  Station,"  commanding  2d  Division,  2d 
Corps. 

"Robinson's  Tavern"  and  "Mine  Run,"  command- 
ing 2d  Division,  2d  Army  Corps. 

"Morton's  Ford"  affair,  February  6th  and  7th,  com- 
manding 2d  Division,  2d  Army  Corps. 

"  Wilderness,"  commanding  2d  Division. 

"Spottsylvania,"  commanding  the  consolidated  2d 
Division,  2d  Corps. 


A  Fraternity  Corner  in  the  Main  Hall. 


113 


The  Second  President  115 

"Siege  of  Petersburg,"  Chief  of  Staff,  Army  of  the 
Potomac. 

"Hatcher's  Run,"  Chief  of  Staff,  Army  of  Potomac. 

His  leaves  of  absence  before  Gettysburg  amounted 
to  thirty-one  days  total. 

General  Webb's  letters  from  the  field,  written  to  his 
father,  and  other  members  of  the  family,  are  an  index 
to  the  energy  and  patriotic  zeal  which  infused  him  in 
the  performance  of  his  official  duty. 

A  letter  from  General  William  F.  Barry,  Colonel  2d 
Artillery,  and  Brevet  Brigadier-General  U.  S.  A.,  de- 
serves to  be  quoted  in  full,  as  testimony  of  the  time. 
He  says: 

In  the  first  week  of  April,  1861,  he  was  assigned  by  the  War 
Department  to  duty  in  my  Battery  [A,  2d  Regt.  U.  S.  Arty.], 
and  with  it  he  embarked  at  New  York  for  the  relief  of  Fort  Pick- 
ens, Pensacola,  which  at  that  time  was  closely  besieged  by  the 
rebel  forces  under  Bragg,  as  was  Fort  Sumter  by  those  under 
Beauregard.  The  expedition,  as  you  are  aware,  was  successful, 
and  this  most  important  military  and  naval  depot  was  secured 
to  the  United  States.  In  the  labors  of  a  hurried  embarkation  of 
guns  and  horses,  in  the  care  and  preservation  of  the  horses, 
during  an  unusually  stormy  sea-voyage,  and  in  their  difficult 
debarkation  t.irough  the  surf  upon  the  open  sea-beach  of 
Santa  Rosa  Island,  the  Transport  being  anchored  a  mile  from 
shore,  he  rendered  me  that  intelligent,  faithful,  and  energetic 
assistance  that  gave  promise  of  the  still  greater  soldierly  qual- 
ities that  distinguished  him  later  in  the  War. 

He  remained  with  my  Battery  as  a  lieutenant  until  Sept., 
1861,  rendering  good  service    at  the  first    Battle  of  Bull   Run, 


n6  The  Second  President 

and  during  the  annoying  and  hazardous  outpost  duty  which  suc- 
ceeded. Having  been  myself  appointed  in  Aug.,  1861,  by 
Maj.-Gen.  McClellan  to  the  duty  of  organizing  and  equipping 
the  immense  force  of  Artillery,  which  was  deemed  requisite  for 
his  Army,  I  selected  him  as  my  assistant,  and  assigned  him  to  the 
duty  of  inspecting  and  instructing  the  volunteer  batteries  prior 
to  their  assignment  to  duty  in  the  field  with  the  Infantry  Divis- 
ions. He  entirely  justified  my  selection,  for  in  this  laborious 
duty — running  through  a  period  of  more  than  six  months — he 
exhibited  his  characteristic  energy,  industry,  and  intelligence. 
To  this  he  added  so  accurate  a  knowledge  of  the  tactics,  care,  and 
uses  of  Artillery  in  campaign,  as  well  as  in  camps  of  instruction, 
and  so  thorough  and  judicious  a  manner  of  imparting  his  informa- 
tion  to  others,  that  I  consider  him  the  best  inspector  and  military 
instructor  I  have  ever  seen. 

When  I  took  the  field  with  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  in  March, 
1862.  he  accompanied  me  as  Inspector-General  on  my  Staff.  Dur- 
ing the  siege  of  Yorktown — a  period  of  thirty  days — he  was  em- 
ployed  night  and  day  and  most  of  the  time  under  the  fire  of  the 
enemy's  position  guns  and  sharpshooters.  In  the  duty  of  disem- 
barking our  heavy  siege  guns  (100  and  200  pounds  Parrotts,  and 
1  s-inch  sea-coast  Mortars),  and  conducting  them  over  boggy 
roads  to  their  various  positions,  he  labored  assiduously,  and  in 
the  special  instance  of  running  the  heavy  Mortars  into  the  mouth 
of  Wormley  Creek,  under  a  concentrated  fire  of  the  enemy's  ar- 
tillery, he  exhibited  not  only  energy  and  high  intelligence,  but 
also  very  great  coolness  and  gallantry. 

Throughout  the  remainder  of  McClellan's  Peninsular  Cam- 
paign, and  especially  at  the  Battles  of  Hanover  Court  House  and 
Gaines  Mill,  he  rendered  efficient  and  gallant  service. 

During  the  movement  from  the  front  of  Richmond  to  James 
River— commonly  called  "The  seven  days'  Battle"— he  was 
everywhere  conspicuous,  and  with  such  incessant  industry  did 


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The  Second  President  119 

he  labor,  that  on  the  sixth  day  he  fell  fainting  and  exhausted 
from  his  horse.  On  the  day  before  the  Battle  of  Malvern  Hill,  at 
the  critical  time  when  the  right  flank  of  our  entire  retreating  col- 
umn, with  its  long  train  of  artillery  and  baggage,  was  exposed  to 
the  attack  of  the  rapidly  advancing  enemy,  he  discovered  and 
personally  reconnoitred  a  hitherto  unknown  road  into  which 
the  larger  portion  of  the  train  was  turned,  thus  saving  it,  and 
leaving  the  main  road  unincumbered  for  the  manoeuvres  and 
concentration  of  our  troops  when  attacked  by  the  enemy  a  few 
hours  afterwards. 

In  Sept.,  1862,  when  I  was  assigned  to  other  duties,  he 
preferred  to  remain  with  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  serving  suc- 
cessively as  Inspector-General,  5th  Corps,  Commander  of  a  Bri- 
gade, and  afterwards  of  a  Division  in  the  2d  Corps.  Not  being 
an  eye-witness  of  his  services  in  these  capacities,  it  is  better  that 
they  should  be  described  by  those  under  whose  immediate  com- 
mand they  were  rendered. 

In  conclusion,  I  beg  to  assure  you  that  in  all  the  soldierly 
attributes  of  subordination,  intelligence,  energy,  physical  endur- 
rance,  and  the  highest  possible  courage,  I  consider  him  to  be  with- 
out his  superior  among  the  younger  officers  of  the  Army.  I  also 
consider  that  both  aptitude  and  experience  fit  him  to  command 
— and  to  command  well — anything  from  a  Regiment  to  a 
Division. 

When  General  Webb  received  his  brigade  and  his 
division,  he  fought  them  well.  To  quote  from  the 
Report  of  the  Committee  on  Military  Affairs  of  the 
U.   S.   Senate,   concerning  one  incident: 

General  Webb's  conduct  at  Gettysburg,  July  3,  1863,  is  par- 
ticularly worthy  of  mention.  He  was  in  command  of  the  Second 
Brigade  of  the  Second  Division  of  the  Second  Corps,  and  had  been 
with  the  color  guard  of  the  Seventy-second  Pennsylvania  Volun- 


i2o  The  Second  President 

teers,  of  whom  every  man  was  wounded  or  killed.  General  Webb 
left  the  color  guard  and  went  across  the  front  of  the  companies 
to  the  right  of  the  Sixty-ninth  Pennsylvania  all  the  way  between 
the  lines  in  order  to  direct  the  fire  of  the  latter  regiment  upon  a 
company  of  rebels  who  had  rushed  across  the  lower  stone  wall, 
led  by  the  rebel  general,  Armistead.  Thus  General  Armistead 
and  General  Webb  were  both  between  the  lines  of  troops  and  both 
were  wounded,  but  by  this  act  of  gallantry  General  Webb  kept 
his  men  up  to  their  work  until  more  than  one  half  were  killed  or 
wounded.  In  this  action  he  was  wounded  by  a  bullet  which 
struck  him  near  the  groin.  General  Meade,  in  his  letter  present- 
ing a  medal  to  General  Webb,  mentions  this  act  as  one  not  sur- 
passed by  any  general  on  the  field. 

In  presenting  to  General  Webb  a  medal,  which  the 
Union  League  Club  of  Philadelphia  caused  to  be  struck, 
one  of  a  few  replicas  of  the  elegant  gold  medal  presented 
to  him,  General  George  G.  Meade,  in  November.  1866, 
wrote  these  strong  words  in  an  autograph  letter: 

In  selecting  those  to  whom  I  should  distribute  these  medals. 
I  know  no  one  General  who  has  more  claims  than  yourself,  either 
for  "distinguished  personal  gallantry  on  that  ever  memorable 
field,"  or  for  the  the  cordial,  warm,  and  generous  sympathy  and 
support  so  grateful  for  a  Commanding  General  to  receive  from 
his  subordinates.  Accept,  therefore,  the  accompanying  medal,  not 
only  as  commemorative  of  the  conspicuous  part  you  bore  in  the 
Great  Battle,  but  as  an  evidence  on  my  part  of  reciprocation  of 
the  kindly  feelings  that  have  always  characterized  our  inter- 
course both  official  and  social. 

The  brevets  which  General  Webb  received  are  an 
indication  of  the  intensity  of  his  army  life.  He  was 
bre vetted  for  "gallant  and  meritorious  services"  as 


Civil  War  Memorial  Tablet. 

Erected  in  1875  by  the  Associate  Alumni  to  the  graduated  who  perished  in 

the  Civil  War.     Overhead  is  President  Webster's  portrait. 


The  Second  President  123 

follows:  Major  in  the  battle  of  Gettysburg,  Lieuten- 
ant-Colonel at  Bristow  Station,  Colonel  at  Spottsyl- 
vania,  Brigadier-General  for  services  and  gallantry  in 
the  campaign  terminating  in  the  surrender  of  General 
R.  E.  Lee,  and  later  Major-General  for  gallant  and 
distinguished  services  during  the  war;  he  was  also  the 
recipient  of  the  Medal  of  Honor  from  Congress. 

After  the  war,  General  Webb  served  in  various 
capacities  in  the  work  of  restoring  order,  and  was  the 
Military  Governor  of  Virginia,  commanding  the  1st 
Military  District,  in  1866. 

On  the  retirement  of  Horace  Webster,  LL.D.,  from 
the  Presidency  of  the  College  of  the  City  of  New  York, 
in  1869,  General  Webb  was  sought,  and  upon  the  highest 
testimonials  was  given  the  office  by  its  Board  of  Trus- 
tees. The  Governor  of  the  State  of  New  York,  John  T. 
Hoffman  wrote: 

'Your  appointment  to  the  presidency  of  the  Col- 
lege of  New  York  gives  me  much  satisfaction." 

This  was  one  of  many  expressions  of  feeling,  shared 
by  some  of  the  most  prominent  of  the  citizens  of  the 
city.  The  College  had  always  been  moulded  after 
the  U.  S.  Military  Academy,  in  its  courses  of  study,  par- 
ticularly in  science  and  the  mathematics,  and  a  gradu- 
ate of  that  institute  seemed  to  be  a  logical  successor  of 
Dr.  Webster. 

It  may  fairly  be  said  that  in  the  fourteen  years 
from  1855  to  1869.  General  Webb  had  had  an  experience 


I24 


The  Second  President 


of  men,  of  vital  problems,  and  of  political  agitation, 
which  few  can  parallel,  and  when  he  came  to  the  task  of 
presiding  over  a  college  faculty,  and  of  guiding  the  de- 
stinies of  the  College,  he  was  a  man  of  very  different 
mould  and  temper  from  the  average  instructor  and 
trustee.  Those  who  remember  his  first  appearance 
recall  a  fairly  slight,  dark-haired,  young-looking  man, 
rather  swarthy  bronzed  face,  handsomely  moulded 
head,  erect  upon  a  compact  but  nervous  and  active 
frame,  displaying,  possibly,  an  element  of  assertion,  as 
of  one  who  had  assumed  a  command  and  was  taking  it 
up  with  vigor.  His  address  indicated  rapid  and  ener- 
getic action  and  the  desire  of  an  eager  gentleman  to 
give  encouragement  to  success. 

The  following,  written  in  1902,    is  a   summary   of 
General  Webb's  work  as  President: 


He  promptly  set  about  acquiring  a  grasp  of  the  situation,  and 
his  report  to  the  Board  of  Trustees  in  October,  1869,  shows  how 
early  in  his  new  position  the  path  of  the  College  was  made 
thorn\-. 

The  Board  of  Trustees  had  resolved  in  substance  October  4, 
1869: 

1.  To  consolidate  the  chairs  of  English  and  of  History. 

2.  To  consolidate  the  chairs  of  Mathematics  and  Mixed 
Mathematics. 

3.  To  require  the  President  to  teach  all  the  Philosophy 
taught. 

4.  To  abolish  all  tutorships  except  one. 

5.  To  give  professors  S5000  per  annum  "in  view  of  their 
increased  duties." 


"} 

01 

[IT 

\  V 

£ —7    r?     jLg 

^^^▲1 

W  a 

^HH 

'«t  '"-v*  \W. 

A 

fi    ',    i       m  *  fa  «  r 

A  Fraternity  Corner. 
Xorthern  corner  of  the  main  hall  with  portraits  of  Professors  Nichols  and  Ross. 


125 


The  Second  President  127 

It  must  have  astonished  the  new  President  to  see  how  many 
ways  there  were  of  criticising  and  balking  the  work  of  the  insti- 
tution. Of  course  the  Trustees  listened  to  reason  and  the 
arguments  of  General  Webb,  and  did  not  do  any  of  the  things 
threatened.  But  they  put  a  firm  limitation  on  the  broadening 
views  of  the  professors  and  President,  and  every  one  settled 
back  to  the  old  work. 

The  following  statements  appear  fairly  to  be  sustained  by  the 
records  of  the  Board  of  Trustees: 

General  Webb  at  once  suggested  changes  in  the  course  of 
studies,  some  of  which  were  made  in  1870.  He  recommended 
that  German  be  put  upon  an  equal  footing  with  the  French  and 
Spanish  languages,  and  that  those  in  the  lower  classes  be  given 
an  opportunity  to  study  that  language.  Theretofore  the  study 
of  German  had  been  limited  to  the  comparatively  few  who 
became  Juniors  and  Seniors. 

He  advised  that  the  students  of  the  Introductory  class  be  on 
probation  the  first  eight  weeks,  and  that  those  who  clearly  showed 
their  lack  of  preparation,  or  their  indisposition  to  enter  upon  the 
College  work,  be  dropped.  This  effective  change  was  made 
and  relieved  the  College  greatly;  it  also  improved  the  tone  of 
the  sections. 

He  early  advocated  the  enlargement  of  the  classical  sche- 
dule of  studies,  and  this  has  eventually  resulted  in  sepa- 
rating the  classical  and  scientific  courses  very  markedly,  so  that 
the  graduates  of  the  College  now  have  no  cause  to  regard 
themselves  as  stinted  in  their  collegiate  training  in  the  ancient 
languages. 

In  1873,  the  Commercial  Course  was  added  to  the  College,  but 
this  was  never  regarded  as  of  a  character  to  warrant  its  associa- 
tion with  the  regular  courses,  and  after  a  few  years  it  was 
abandoned. 

In  1875,  through  the  advocacy  of  Professor  Compton,  a  post- 


i28  The  Second  President 

graduate  course  in  Civil  Engineering  was  created,  but  no  degree 
was  ever  favored  by  the  President.  General  Webb  had  early 
founded  a  manual  instruction  course  by  which  students  were 
given  an  opportunity  after  hours  to  perfect  themselves  in  the  use 
of  tools.  Ultimately  the  Mechanical  Course  was  incorporated 
in  the  College  schedule  in  1881.  Originalh^  this  was  a  three 
years'  course,  but  in  1889  it  was  enlarged  to  a  five  years'  course, 
and  became  a  regular  Collegiate  course,  yielding  to  graduates  the 
degree  of  B.  S. 

General  "Webb  has  always  opposed  those  who  considered 
young  men  in  the  Sophomore  class  ready  to  enter  upon  a  pro- 
posed course  of  pedagogy.  He  was  consistently  opposed  to  the 
establishment  of  the  Commercial  Course,  and  his  aim  has  always 
been  to  steady  the  work  of  the  institution  along  the  lines  of  its 
original  foundation.  He  never  believed  that  the  average  student 
attending  College  should  be  given  early  in  the  course  too  much 
indulgence  in  electives. 

When  in  1897  the  High  Schools  were  established  and  inaugu- 
rated as  a  part  of  the  public  education  of  the  City  by  those  whose 
aims  appeared  to  be  hostile  to  the  College,  the  foresight  of  the 
President  forced  the  establishment  of  a  College  High  School  by 
the  subdivision  of  the  entrance  classes,  and  an  extension  of  their 
c<  >urses,  so  as  to  maintain  the  supply  necessary  to  keep  the  College 
alive. 

During  the  years  1895  an^  1897,  when  the  earnest  and  suc- 
cessful efforts  of  the  friends  of  the  College,  led  by  its  Alumni  Asso- 
ciation, were  made  to  procure  the  legislation  for  a  new  site,  there 
was  no  one  who  gave  more  continuous  and  intelligent  application 
to  the  accomplishment  of  the  work  than  the  President  of  the  Col- 
lege, never  thwarting  but  always  aiding  that  movement,  and 
when  finally  in  1898  the  supplementary  act  had  to  be  passed  to 
provide  the  additional  sum  of  $200,000,  General  Webb's  per- 
sonal aid  on  the  floor  of  the  Senate  was  instrumental  in  having  the 


The  Second  President  131 

bill  taken  up  out  of  its  course  on  the  last  day  of  the  session,  thus 
insuring  its  successful  passage. 

It  was  an  exciting  moment,  when,  in  the  hurry  and  strug- 
gle and  bustle  of  the  last  hours  of  the  legislature,  Mr.  Ellsworth, 
the  leader  of  the  Senate,  taking  the  distinguished  President  of  the 
College  on  the  floor  of  the  Senate,  and  introducing  him  as  the 
hero  of  Gettysburg,  asked  unanimous  consent  to  pass  out  of  its 
order  the  bill  which  had  come  from  the  Assembly  after  over  a 
week's  careful  watching  and  urging,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  w<  >rk 
of  its  adoption  was  done. 

General  Webb  was  a  conspicuous  defender  of  the 
College  from  what  he  regarded  as  the  injurious  attacks 
of  Universities— so-called  "Universities  in  distress," 
whose  aim  and  purpose  was  to  invade  the  college  classes, 
and  get  recruits  from  them  for  their  institutions.  Edu- 
cators the  world  over  have  come  to  know  of  the  exist- 
ence of  those  alleged  benefactors,  whose  purpose  is 
apparently  more  to  benefit  teachers  and  professors 
than  the  youth  in  search  of  education. 

In  one  of  his  papers,  which  was  earnestly  approved 
by  Chancellor  Anson  J.  Upson,  of  New  York,  and  which 
embodies  the  argument  he  so  long  urged,  he  said: 

Colleges  will  differ  according  to  their  especial  objects  and  loca- 
tion, but  not  in  the  essential  lines  of  instruction.  Every  college 
graduate  is  to-day  as  good  a  man  as  any  other  college  graduate, 
or  he  is,  in  his  own  estimation,  a  little  better  than  any  other  col- 
lege graduate.  The  term  is  a  well  known  one  and  we  must  respect 
the  title,  and  see  to  it  that  no  reputable  college  reduces  its  course, 
or  changes  its  general  course  in  a  way  to  bring  contempt  on  the 
Bachelor's  degree.  But  the  advocate  of  the  elective  course  comes 
in  and  tells  us  that  we  are  all  wrong.     Parts  of  our  course  studied 


i32  The  Second  President 

in  excess  are  better  for  this  man  and  that  man  than  the  whole 
course. 

One  cannot  conceive  how  the  plan  proposed  could  tend  to 
produce  harmony  amid  all  these  conflicting  interests.  AVe  sin- 
cerely deplore  that  we  must  differ  conscientiously  from  high 
authorities  in  matters  which  refer  to  the  policy  to  be  adopted  by 
our  institutions  of  higher  education,  but,  at  this  time,  it  is  espe- 
cially necessary  to  be  plain  spoken  against  invasions  of  the 
present  college  course  as  arranged  by  the  best  minds  of  the  coun- 
try, and  to  express  determined  hostility  to  the  abuse  of  the  elec- 
tive system,  leading  as  it  does  to  these  discussions,  when  this 
system  is  applied  to  students  not  of  the  university  grade. 

It  would  have  been  gratifying  to  General  Webb 
and  to  his  students  if  he  could  have  conducted  them 
to  the  new  City  College  on  the  Heights,  but  a  wave  of 
opposition  was  felt  to  beat  against  the  progress  of 
affairs  under  the  new  regime  in  1902,  which  indicated  a 
contest  from  which  the  gentlemanly  instincts  of  this 
high-minded  officer  shrank,  and  he  laid  down  the  office 
to  retire  to  private  life.  No  less,  however,  do  the  great 
body  of  students  who  knew  him  during  his  thirty-three 
years  of  leadership  respect  the  ideal  which  he  em- 
bodied, of  truth,  loyalty,  steadfastness,  honorable  am- 
bition, and  manliness,  coupled  with  genuine  collegiate 
scholarship,  and  faith  in  the  usefulness  of  the  first  City 
College  of  the  land,  as  a  people's  college. 

He  found  the  College  with  768  students,  and  left  it 
with  1969.  The  language  of  the  students'  tribute  to 
him  was: 

And  we  who  have  known  the  General  so  well,  will  ever  remem- 


"o 


i-3    •* 


e  <? 


-    o 


The  Second  President  135 

ber  that  noble,  gentle  face  and  kindly  eye,  reflecting  as  it  does  a 
heart  "as  big  as  the  man  himself."  In  him  we  have  always 
found  a  staunch  friend,  a  wise  counsellor,  a  merciful  judge.  Slow 
to  anger,  steadfast  in  the  right,  dignified,  courteous,  noble,  gen- 
erous, in  fact  an  ideal  man  whom  we  all  might  well  follow  as  a  pre- 
cept and  example,  for  it  can  truly  be  said  of  him,  "  He  was  a  man 
the  like  of  whom  we  shall  not  soon  see  again." 

These  words  at  the  end  of  his  career  as  president 
may  be  placed  beside  the  language  of  a  distinguished 
graduate  of  the  College,  who  wrote  in  November,  1870, 
as  follows: 

If  the  right  man  getting  into  the  right  place  ever  fitted  better, 
I  am  much  mistaken.  I  believe  most  thoroughly  in  the  need  of 
the  Doctor  Arnold  kind  of  man  at  the  head  of  our  great  schools ; 
a  man  integer  vitcc,  who  shall  be  a  model  as  well  as  an  instructor 
or  mere  disciplinarian,  and  it  has  always  been  my  regret,  that  the 
sons  of  our  Alma  Mater  have  been  without  such  an  one  to  pat- 
tern by ;  one  whom  it  was  easier  to  love  than  to  fear,  to  reverence 
than  to  dread,  a  thorough  man  and  universal  gentleman.  I 
think  my  ideal  has  been  found. 

In  conclusion,  the  College  of  the  City  of  New  York 
may  always  feel  proud  that  its  second  president  was  so 
true  and  earnest  a  man,  one  incapable  by  birth  and 
youthful  training  of  ignoble  or  improper  impulses,  a 
man  so  fearless  and  successful  in  showing  by  deeds  his 
character,  and  so  upright  an  example  to  the  many 
thousand  students  who  came  under  his  control. 

College  presidents  may  be  said  each  to  represent 
some  dominant  trait, — Eliphalet  Nott,  the  learned  pre- 
ceptor of  youth;  Dr.  McCosh,  the  sturdy  Presbyterian 


136  The  Second  President 

moralist;  Dr.  Barnard,  a  leader  of  education;  and  our 
President  Webb  was  a  manly  example  of  heroic,  patri- 
otic, and  straightforward  worthy  actions.  There  was 
no  "God  of  War"  thought  in  his  personality  at  the 
College,  but  his  presence  brought  to  youth  a  sugges- 
tion of   consecrated  greatness. 


The  Later  Faculty 


The  Later  Faculty 

Adolph  Werner,  '57 

/^vNE  evening  in  July,  1852,  five  new  professors  deliv- 
^^  ered  inaugural  addresses  to  an  audience  of  old 
professors,  students,  and  citizens  in  the  great  hall 
(which  was  not  then  called  chapel).  The  speakers  were 
Charles  Edward  Anthon,  Professor  of  History  and  Belles 
Lettres;  John  Graeff  Barton,  Professor  of  the  English 
Language  and  Literature;  Joel  Tyler  Benedict,  Pro- 
fessor of  Civil  Engineering;  Robert  Ogden  Doremus, 
Professor  of  Natural  History,  Anatomy,  Physiology,  and 
Hygiene;  John  Augustus  Nichols,  Professor  of  Natural 
Philosophy.  And  the}'  began  to  lecture  and  teach  on 
the  ninth  of  September  following.  Professor  Barton 
was  thirty-eight  years  old,  the  others  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  thirty.  They  have  all  passed  away:  Nichols 
in  1868,  Barton  in  1877,  Anthon  in  1883,  Benedict  in 
1892,  Doremus  in  1906. 

How  they  looked,  at  least  how  they  looked  each  on 
some  one  day  of  his  life,  the  crayon  portraits  on  the 
walls  of  the  old  college  building  will  have  shown  to  the 
readers  of  this  book.  And  how  shall  we  portray  in 
words  what  the}'  were,  their  characters  and  their  suc- 

139 


140  The  Later  Faculty 

cesses?  Everybody  remembers  vividly  what  Professor 
Doremus  was  during  the  forty  years  of  his  occupancy 
of  the  chair  of  chemistry,  to  which  on  the  resignation 
of  its  first  occupant,  Gibbs,  he  was  transferred  in  1863: 
an  ardent  devotee  of  science,  a  brilliant  experimenter, 
an  eloquent  lecturer,  an  impressive  teacher,  a  lover  of 
art,  poetrv,  and  all  learning,  a  man  of  the  world.  In 
his  first  professorship,  he  delivered  annually  courses  of 
lectures  on  human  physiology  and  hygiene,  on  physical 
geography,  and  on  geology.  Though  these  courses  were 
brief,  some  consisting  only  of  weekly  lectures  during 
one  term,  the}'  were  impressive,  giving  the  students 
an  adequate  notion  of  these  sciences,  or,  let  us  say,  a 
notion  considered  sufficient  in  those  remote  days,  when, 
as  all  college  men  know,  the  ideal  and  nature  of  a 
college  course  were  not  what  they  are  now. 

Professor  Anthon  also  was  a  scholar  of  more  inter- 
ests and  accomplishments  than  one.  He  was  as  deeply 
interested  and  as  much  at  home  in  literature,  classical 
and  modern,  as  in  history,  and  his  scholarship  in  both 
was  thorough,  extensive,  and  brilliant.  For  many 
years  he  taught  the  Sophomore  class  personally  in 
modern  European  history  and  the  Senior  class  in 
literature,  giving  usually,  with  the  aid  of  Mrs.  Botta's 
handbook,  a  survey  of  two  literatures  in  the  year. 

Professor  Barton  was,  as  the  students  saw  him  (and, 
no  doubt,  when  they  did  not  see  him),  a  serious  man. 
He  was  considered  a  strict  man,  not  severe,  but  strict, 
kind,  and  kindly.     While  he  delivered  few  lectures,  he 


Prof.  Nichols  in  '58. 
Prof.  Rof.mer  in  'Sq. 
Prof.  Anthon  in  '5S. 


Prof.  Koerner  in  '63. 
President  Webb  in  '70. 
Prof.  Doremus  in  '70. 

Mi 


Prof.  Benedict  in  '66. 
Prof.  Morales  in  '76. 
Prof.  Barton  in  '69. 


The  Later  Faculty  143 

was  a  fluent  and  interesting  talker,  and,  drawing  upon 
a  fund  of  information,  supplemented  the  text-book 
generously.  The  student  could  count  upon  the  pro- 
fessor's speaking  a  large  fraction  of  the  time;  but  he 
must  also  expect  a  searching  examination  of  his  own 
knowledge.  Always,  the  professor  held  the  attention  of 
the  class,  and  he  always  secured  careful  preparation 
of  assigned  lessons  and  performance  of  assigned 
work. 

Professor  Benedict  was,  like  Professor  Barton, 
serious  and  strict,  and  in  addition,  frequently  austere. 
He  taught  half  a  dozen  Senior  classes  civil  engineer- 
ing; not  those  who  elected  it,  but  the  whole  class. 
But  while  the  early  Boards  of  Education  laid  stress 
on  the  practical,  meaning,  presumably,  preparation 
for  such  professions  as  the  engineer's,  the  students 
were  looking  forward  to  law,  medicine,  the  ministry, 
teaching,  and  business. 

After  some  time  the  department  was  discontinued 
and  Professor  Benedict  was  made  Adjunct  Professor 
of  Mathematics,  in  which  position  he  remained  until 
1866.  The  next  dozen  years  he  assisted  his  wife  in  the 
management  of  a  school;  after  her  death  he  lived  in 
retirement,  with  his  books,  his  memories,  and  his 
thoughts.  Mathematical  brains  are,  at  all  events  they 
were  forty  or  fifty  years  ago,  scarcer  than,  say,  gram- 
matical; and  a  serious,  strict,  and  occasionally  austere 
teacher  would  not  be  adored  by  all  his  pupils,  nor 
indeed  by  all  his  classes.     But  Professor  Benedict  was 


i44  The  Later  Faculty 

a  fine  mathematician  and  an  excellent  teacher — his 
Algebra  was  by  man}-  teachers  and  students  called  the 
best  of  its  day — and  there  were  classes  that  swore  by 
him. 

Professor  Nichols — there  is  hardly  any  shading  yet 
in  the  picture  of  the  group  exposed  on  that  1852  July 
evening — and  yet  how  could  any  one  speak  of  Professor 
Nichols  but  with  admiration  and  love?  His  genuine 
devotion  to  science  and  knowledge,  his  unwavering 
belief  in  education,  his  optimistic  faith  in  the  capability 
of  the  student  mind,  not  everybody  might  share,  but 
everybody  must  admire.  Professor  Nichols  was  an 
assiduous  student  all  his  life,  while  he  was  in  health 
and  when  his  health  failed.  Though  cheerful — cheer- 
fulness is  lovable — and  ambitious  to  the  close,  he  was 
sadly  hampered  during  the  last  two  or  three  years  of 
his  life  by  the  disease  to  which  he  succumbed  at  the 
age  of  forty-six.  He  did  a  noble  piece  of  work  in  a 
span  in  which  only  men  above  mediocrity  accomplish 
anything  memorable. 

The  first  president  of  the  College  was,  as  all  Amer- 
ican college  presidents  used  to  be,  Professor  of  Philos- 
ophy. Soon,  in  1855,  the  institution  had  grown  so 
large  that  he  needed  an  assistant,  and  George  Wash- 
ington Huntsman  was  appointed  Assistant  Professor 
of  Philosophy.  He  taught  the  Sophomores  logic  and 
political  economy,  and  later  the  Juniors  intellectual 
philosophy  or  mental  science,  which  comprised  por- 
tions of  what  arenow called  psychology  and  metaphysics. 


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The  Later  Faculty  147 

When  President  Webb  succeeded  President  Webster,  in 
1869,  the  president  was  relieved  of  the  work  of  teaching, 
and  Professor  Huntsman  became  Professor  of  Philos- 
ophy. He  occupied  the  chair  for  ten  years,  when  he 
retired. 

Dr.  Hermann  Koerner  was  in  185 1  appointed 
substitute  for  Professor  Duggan,  who  was  away  on 
account  of  sickness.  On  Duggan' s  return  a  year  later, 
a  new  department,  Descriptive  Geometry  and  Indus- 
trial Drawing,  was  created,  evidently  because  Dr. 
Koerner  was  too  valuable  a  man  to  lose  and  too  vener- 
able a  man  for  the  rank  of  tutor.  Venerable  ?  He  was 
not  yet  fifty  years  old,  but  his  hair  was  white,  having 
turned  so  in  a  night  during  the  Revolution  of  '48. 
Dr.  Koerner  was  a  political  exile.  He  was,  as  every 
German  of  his  generation  was,  a  philosopher,  and  he 
preached  idealism  fifty  years  before  Prince  Henry  of 
Prussia.  He  never  acquired  an  English  tongue,  but 
made  himself  understood,  and  when,  after  the  death 
of  Professor  Duggan,  the  two  departments  became  one 
again,  Professor  Koerner  even  delivered  lectures  on 
esthetics,  "Art  and  its  division  into  Arts"  he  entitled 
the  course.  He  was  the  first  and  for  man}-  years  the  only 
professor  in  the  College  who  had  the  foreign  degree 
Ph.D.,  as  he  was  the  first  and  for  many  years  the  only 
professor  in  the  College  who  used  the  not  yet  natural- 
ized word  Pedagogy.  Professor  Koerner  added  strength 
to  the  Faculty  and  was  in  many  ways  an  interesting 
man,  nor  without  a  picturesque  trait,  not  inappropriate 


148 


The  Later  Faculty 


in  an  exponent  of  art.  To  the  younger  students  he 
seemed  queer;  the  older  students  came  to  recognize 
the  depth  of  his  character  and  thought  and  to  sympa- 
thize with  his  sentiments.  Professor  Koerner  retired 
in  1877. 

Dr.  John  Christopher  Draper  followed  Professor 
Doremus  as  Professor  of  Natural  History.  More  hours 
were  assigned  to  the  department;  physiology  could  be 
treated  more  fully,  the  study  of  botany  and  zoology 
was  added,  and — what  is  perhaps  most  interesting, 
seeing  that  it  was  done  over  forty  years  ago — blowpipe 
analysis,  the  experimental  study  of  minerals  by  the 
students  themselves  in  a  rudimentary  laboratory,  was 
introduced. 

Professor  Draper  was  not  apt  to  overrate  the  young 
men  and  their  performances;  yet  he  did  not  fail  to 
discover  ability  and  merit  and  to  recognize  them  cheer- 
fully. Two  weeks  before  his  death,  in  the  spring  of 
1885, — though  he  had  no  premonition  and  was  evi- 
dently talking  without  ulterior  purpose, — he  spoke  to 
a  colleague  of  his  experience  in  the  College  and  of  his 
relations  with  the  students.  '  They  have  been  good  to 
me,  thev  have  always  treated  me  well."  Let  the 
students'  estimate  of  the  professor  implied  in  his  praise 
of  them  stand  in  place  of  other  opinion;  it  seems 
sufficient. 

When  in  1869  Professor  Owen  died  the  pro- 
fessorship of  Latin  and  Greek  was  divided,  and 
Jesse  Ames   Spencer,  S.  T.   D.,  the  well-known  clas- 


Prof.  Huntsman  in  '70. 
Prof.  Scott  in  'So. 
Prof.  Xewcomb  in  '84. 


Prof.  Draper  in  '70. 
Prof.  Fabrf.gon  in  1902. 
Prof.  Spencer  in  'S6. 
Prof.  Mason  in  '89. 
149 


Prof.  Sturgis  in  '8i. 
Prof.  Hardy  in  '94. 
Prof.  "vVoolf  in  'So. 


The  Later  Faculty  15 1 

sical  scholar,  was  elected  Professor  of  the  Greek  Lan- 
guage and  Literature.  He  occupied  the  chair  ten 
years. 

David  Burnet  Scott  was  principal  of  the  grammar 
school  which  had  been  sending  the  second  largest 
classes  to  the  College  when  in  1871  he  was  appointed 
Principal  of  the  Introductory  (sub- Freshman)  Depart- 
ment. Then  the  first  attempt  at  the  separation  of  the 
academic  department  was  made. 

The  building  on  Twenty-second  Street  had,  in  these 
first  years  of  President  Webb's  administration,  been 
erected  and  arranged  for  the  accommodation  of  the 
sub-Freshmen.  The  top  floor,  later  known  as  Natural 
History  Hall,  was  the  assembly  room  and  portions  of 
it  were  recitation- rooms  during  the  day.  The  young 
boys  did  not  disturb  the  scholastic  calm  of  the 
main  building;  they  never  entered  it  except  when  they 
came,  under  supervision,  to  the  first  floor  to  listen  to 
Professor  Doremus  and  behold  his  magnificent  experi- 
ments. When  Professor  Barton  died,  in  1877,  Professor 
Scott  was  elected  his  successor — and  no  new  principal 
was  appointed. 

Professor  Scott  had  long  been  a  student  of  English 
literature  and  had  lectured  thereon  with  marked  suc- 
cess to  the  teachers'  classes  instituted  by  the  Board 
of  Education  before  the  establishment  of  the  Nor- 
mal College.  He  continued  to  evince  during  the: 
seventeen  years  of  his  professorate — he  died  in  1894 — 
the  same  traits  of  intellectual  keenness  and  force,  the 


152  The  Later  Faculty 

same  individuality  and  personal  strength  which  had 
characterized  him  as  a  principal.  He  made  himself 
felt  among  men,  and  he  exerted  a  strong  influence  on 
boys  and   young  men. 

George  Benton  Newcomb  succeeded  Professor 
Huntsman  in  the  chair  of  philosophy  in  1879  and  served 
the  College  until  his  death  in  the  fall  of  1895.  Professor 
Newcomb  was  a  native  of  New  York  and  a  graduate  of 
Williams  College.  For  some  years  after  graduation  he 
was  a  journalist;  then,  for  a  series  of  years,  a  clergyman, 
the  pastor  of  a  church  in  a  Connecticut  town.  He 
taught  the  Junior  and  Senior  classes  personally,  the 
former  in  economics  and  law,  the  latter  in  psychology 
and  the  history  of  philosophy.  He  was  a  scholarly 
man,  endeavored  to  get  his  students  both  to  think  and 
to  read,  and  generally  succeeded.  In  addition  to  de- 
livering lectures  and  appointing  and  hearing  lessons 
in  text-books,  he  set  individual  students  individual 
tasks  and  gave  them  individual  opportunities  according 
to  their  abilities  and  needs.  He  was  seldom  seen  on  his 
way  to  and  from  college  without  his  satchel,  in  which  he 
carried  the  books  and  pamphlets  for  this  individualized 
instruction  and  the  papers  which  the  students  wrote 
—indeed,  were  proud  to  write — at  the  periodical  exam- 
inations or  tests  scattered  through  the  term,  which  he 
held  to  a  greater  extent  than  had  been  customary  in 
his  department  or  was  customary  in  most  departments. 
James  Weir  Mason  was  Professor  of  Mathematics 
from  1879  to  1902.    He  was  a  graduate  of  our  own  Col- 


The    Chemical    Library. 
Private  room  and  library  of  the  Chemical  Department,  for  fifty  years  the 
sanctum  of  Professor  Doremus. 


153 


The  Later  Faculty  155 

lege  in  the  class  of  1855.  The  twenty-four  years  between 
his  graduation  and  his  return,  he  spent  partly  as  a 
teacher,  partly  as  a  mathematician,  having  been  Prin- 
cipal of  the  old  Albany  Academy  and  Actuary  of  the 
Massachusetts  and  the  Penn  Life  Insurance  Compa- 
nies. As  a  young  man,  as  a  man,  as  an  old  man,  he  was 
serious,  faithful,  earnest  with  the  Kingsley  earnestness, 
a  lover  of  literature,  at  home  in  romance  and  history 
and  poetry,  seldom  at  fault  as  to  the  authorship  of  a 
verse  and  generally  able  to  complete  the  stanza.  At 
the  start  and  during  the  first  twenty-five  years  of  the 
college,  mathematics  was,  in  a  sense,  the  leading  study; 
it  was  obligatory  to  the  same  extent  on  all  students. 
Then  came  a  change.  The  classical  course  was  dif- 
ferentiated from  the  scientific,  the  natural  and  experi- 
mental sciences,  here  as  elsewhere,  assumed  greater 
proportions.  And  when  Professor  Mason  came,  he 
hoped  to  accomplish  and  he  found  that  many  expected 
him  to  accomplish  under  the  new  conditions  what 
tradition  said  had  been  accomplished  under  the  old. 
He  himself  adhered  to  the  high  standard  of  his  own 
student  days;  he  upheld  it  so  far  as  it  could  be  upheld 
in  a  modern  faculty  and  a  modern  college  not  yet 
committed  to  electives  (in  which  only  the  mathemat- 
ically minded  take  mathematics  beyond  the  elements, 
and  a  larger  portion  succeed).  Anxious,  like  other 
good  and  loyal  teachers,  to  save  those  of  the  weaker 
students  who  were  not  past  redemption,  he  formed — 
for  years,  if  not  to  the  end — special  volunteer  classes  to 


i56 


The  Later  Faculty 


whom  for  a  month  before  examination  he  gave  supple- 
mentary instruction  and  drill  several  times  a  week,  out- 
side the  regular  college  hours  (and,  of  course,  without 
fee).  He  labored  in  a  transition  period,  but  his  true 
mind  never  lost  its  temper,  and  his  incisive,  earnest 
teaching  bore  ( if,  in  speaking  of  a  man  of  pure  literarv 
taste,  the  metaphor  may  be  changed)  good  fruit. 


The  Life  of  the   College 


157 


The  Beginnings 

James  R.  Steers,  '53 


TJAVING  been  requested  to  give  some  reminiscences 
of  my  school- days  and  my  impressions  of  the  Free 
Academy,  now  the  City  College,  I  shall  begin  with  some 
few  instances  of  early  childhood  showing  the  condition 
of  public  schools  at  that  time. 

My  earliest  school- days  were  in  a  little  school  kept 
by  a  lady  friend  of  my  parents,  who  had,  perhaps, 
eight  or  ten  other  pupils.  When  I  was  about  six  my 
mother  took  me  to  the  Public  School  in  Fifth  Street, 
between  Avenue  C  and  Avenue  D,  the  principal  of 
which  was  Mr.  Abraham  Van  Vleck,  a  thin  sandv- 
haired  man,  who  to  my  childish  mind  seemed  the  incar- 
nation of  severity  and  dignity.  My  mother  led  me  up 
to  the  platform,  and  to  test  my  acquirements,  to  see 
whether  I  was  a  fit  subject  to  be  admitted,  I  was 
required  to  read  several  verses  from  the  Bible,  which 
I  accomplished  to  the  satisfaction  of  Mr.  Van  Vleck, 
and  I  was  duly  enrolled  as  a  member  of  the  Junior  Sixth 
class,  the  lowest  of  the  school. 

159 


160  College  Life — The  Beginnings 

I  remained  at  this  school  about  five  years  and,  in 
spite  of  strong  efforts  on  my  part  to  be  promoted,  I 
never  rose  above  the  Junior  Seventh.  The  classes  were 
Junior  Sixth  and  Senior  Sixth,  Junior  Seventh  and 
Senior  Seventh,  Junior  Eighth  and  Senior  Eighth, 
Junior  Ninth  and  Senior  Ninth. 

Those  were  the  days  of  flogging  and  the  more  serious 
misdemeanors  that  schoolboys  are  prone  to  were 
visited  by  a  punishment  with  the  rattan.  Mr.  Van 
Vleck  had  a  unique  and  varied  assortment  of  rattans, 
shaved  to  different  degrees  of  thinness,  which  seemed 
to  me  to  be  adjusted  to  the  age  of  the  misdemeanants. 
After  I  had  been  in  the  school  for  a  year  or  more,  there 
grew  upon  my  mind  a  feeling  of  resentment  against 
what  I  thought  was  the  injustice  with  which  I  was 
treated.  I  saw  boys  who  were,  I  knew,  not  as  well 
qualified  for  promotion  as  myself,  advanced,  and  strive 
as  I  would  and  work  as  hard  as  I  could,  I  never  seemed 
to  be  able  to  get  along.  I  do  not  recollect  that  I  was 
punished  very  much  with  the  rattan.  I  enjoyed  a  more 
ingenious  form  of  punishment.  Boys  who  had  been 
guilty  of  unnecessary  talking,  or  some  such  trifling 
thing,  were  made  to  stand  holding  out  at  arm's  length 
heavy  slates  for  an  hour  or  so  at  a  time. 

All  our  writing  of  the  lower  classes  was  done  on 
these  slates,  and  when  I  was  about  eight,  steel  pens  were 
first  introduced  into  the  school.  Up  to  that  time,  the 
upper  class  boys  had  used  quills,  which  were  prepared 
for  them  by  Mr.  Van  Vleck  or  some  of  his  assistants. 


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College  Life — The  Beginnings  163 

The  boys  were  required  to  buy  their  own  steel  pens,  a 
factory  for  which  was  started  across  the  street  from 
the  school.  My  great  ambition  at  that  time  was  to  be 
promoted  from  slate  writing  to  copy-book  writing,  but 
this  I  was  not  able  to  accomplish  so  long  as  I  remained 
in  the  school.  The  boys  would  write  on  their  slates 
sentences  ordinarily  quoted,  like  "Evil  communica- 
tions corrupt  good  manners,"  and  submit  them  to  Mr. 
Van  Vleck  and  ask  to  be  promoted  to  the  dignity  of  a 
copy-book.  I  did  that  a  number  of  times,  but  my 
application  was  invariably  rejected,  although  the  bovs 
around  me  said  that  my  writing  was  better  than  that 
of  a  great  many  of  the  others  who  had  been  promoted. 
There  was  one  boy  among  us  who  helped  other  boys 
to  the  much-desired  copy-book  by  writing  their  task 
for  them  and  these  were  invariably  successful.  Despair- 
ing of  getting  the  desired  promotion  in  any  other  way,  I 
got  him  to  write  some  copies  for  me  en  my  slate.  I 
took  them  to  Mr.  Van  Vleck,  feeling  I  was  sure  of 
promotion  this  time,  but  to  my  dismay  he  rejected  my 
application  again. 

This  school  was  one  of  the  original  Public  Schools, 
so-called,  established  and  supported  by  the  Public 
School  Society.  When  I  was  about  eleven  years  old 
the  city  began  to  build  its  own  Common  Schools. 
About  this  time  Common  School  No.  5  had  just  been 
finished  and  stood  at  the  corner  of  Stanton  and  Sheriff 
streets,  in  a  delectable  neighborhood  of  rag  pickers, 
drinking  saloons,  and  breweries.   As  soon  as  the  building 


164  College  Life — The  Beginnings 

was  ready  for  occupancy  I  was  transferred  there,  and 
upon  examination  by  the  Principal,  Mr.  Seneca  Durand, 
to  my  astonishment  I  was  immediately  put  into  the 
highest  class  in  the  school  and  then  I  received  my  first 
realizing  sense  of  what  good  teaching  was.  Mr.  Durand 
himself  was  a  good  teacher,  though  not  a  highly  edu- 
cated man.  For  arithmetic  we  went  to  a  New  Englander 
by  the  name  of  Hall,  whose  method  was  clearness  itself 
and  under  whom  it  was  a  great  pleasure  to  sit.  I  use 
his  method  with  vulgar  fractions  to  this  day.  In  this 
school  I  remained  between  four  and  five  years.  I  had 
finished  the  whole  course  of  studies  in  1847,  in  fact  a 
year  before,  but  I  stayed  as  a  sort  of  occupation,  my 
parents  thinking  I  was  too  young  to  go  to  work. 

In  the  summer  of  1848  I  would  have  left  the  school, 
but  my  parents  learning  of  the  proposed  establishment 
of  the  Free  Academy,  now  the  College  of  the  City  of  New 
York,  it  was  suggested  that  I  should  not  leave  school 
until  the  new  academy  was  reach'  to  receive  my  appli- 
cation for  admission. 

The  interior  arrangement  of  Mr.  Durand's  school 
was  somewhat  similar  to  that  of  the  old  public  school, 
that  is  to  say,  it  had  a  large  assembly  room  with  a 
gallery  in  the  rear,  with  class-rooms  under  it  and  at 
either  side  of  the  platform.  This  platform  stood  in  the 
middle  of  the  assembly  room  at  the  other  end  and  oppo- 
site the  gallery.  There  was  a  broad  aisle  down  the 
middle  of  the  large  room  and  two  broad  side  aisles. 
The  desks  were  arranged  on  both  sides  between  the 


At  Work  in  the  Research  Laboratory. 
Taken  while  the  members  of  the  Chemical  Department  were    engaged  on  some 
important  investigations  for  the   City  Government. 


163 


College  Life — The  Beginnings  167 

middle  and  side  aisles.  Boys  did  not  have  separate 
desks.  There  were  long  desks,  each  arranged  for 
twelve  pupils.  At  the  end  toward  the  side  aisles  of  each 
was  a  raised  desk  at  which  a  boy,  usually  one  of  a 
higher  class,  sat  on  a  tall  stool,  so  that  he  could  over- 
1<  ><)k  all  the  boys  sitting  on  the  lower  seats.  These  seats 
were  small  oval  stools,  without  backs,  the  legs  of  which 
were  set  in  a  board  on  the  floor.  There  were  six  seats 
fastened  to  one  board,  and  six  to  another,  making 
twelve  to  each  long  desk.  Each  boy  had  a  little  open 
drawer  in  front  of  him  where  he  put  his  books,  or  his 
luncheon  or  what  not,  and  in  winter  he  jammed  his 
hat  in  there  and  also  his  overcoat  if  he  had  one. 

There  were  no  janitors  in  those  days  and  the  good 
boys  were  allowed,  as  a  matter  of  favor,  to  stay  in  after 
school  and  sweep  and  dust  the  schoolroom,  in  which 
sweeping  and  dusting  I  took  my  part  with  a  great 
deal  of  pleasure. 

In  each  class-room  was  a  sort  of  easel,  upon  which 
was  placed  a  large  board  of  wood  painted  black.  Upon 
this  the  teacher  would  write  or  explain  the  sums 
from  the  arithmetic,  and  sometimes  a  boy  would  be 
called  up  "to  do  a  sum."  The  chalk  was  ahvays  a 
small  irregular  piece  like  that  used  by  a  carpenter. 
The  rubber  or  wiper  of  the  board  was  a  more  or  less 
soiled  rag. 

The  selection  of  the  school-books  was  very  largely 
under  the  control  of  the  principal,  who,  as  he  used  to 
say,  could  usually  get  new  books  for  the  school  from 


1 68  College  Life — The  Beginnings 

publishers  on  condition  of  giving  up  the  use  of  the  old 
ones. 

Our  principal,  Mr.  Durand,  was  a  fine  singer,  with  a 
beautiful  voice,  and  he  trained  the  boys  in  singing  the 
tenor  and  bass  parts  of  many  old  English  glees,  and 
also  taught  the  girls,  who  had  the  floor  below  ours,  the 
soprano  and  alto  parts.  At  the  close  of  the  school  each 
summer  there  was  a  grand  concert,  with  quartettes  and 
duets  sung  by  the  boys  and  girls,  accompanied  on  the 
piano  by  one  of  the  teachers,  and  with  some  rousing 
choruses. 

In  December  of  1848  I  went  up  to  the  Free  Academy 
with  a  certificate  from  my  principal  and  applied  for 
admission.  Those  who  had  applied  were  assembled  in 
what  was  called  the  chemical  lecture-room,  and  the 
President,  Dr.  Horace  Webster,  called  one  applicant 
after  another,  gave  each  a  number,  and  directed  him  to 
a  certain  class-room  to  be  examined.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  he  was  very  slow  in  doing  this.  I  grew  a 
little  impatient  and  thought  I  would  discover,  if  I 
could,  whether  there  was  any  method  in  his  order  of 
selection.  I  soon  noticed  that  the  boys  who  were 
making  a  noise  or  talking  were  selected,  as  I  then 
thought,  to  get  rid  of  them,  so  I  immediately  began  to 
talk  and  at  once  was  called  up  and  was  g'ven  a  number, 
43,  by  which  I  was  known  in  all  my  examinations.  The 
first  room  to  which  I  was  sent  was  the  room  of  Pro- 
fessor Ross,  professor  of  mathematics,  and  I  still 
remember  the  impression  he  made  upon  me.     He  was 


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College  Life — The  Beginnings  171 

tall,  somewhat  ungainly,  with  an  old-fashioned  turn- 
down collar  and  a  sort  of  rambling  necktie  or  hand- 
kerchief tied  around  his  neck,  with  an  unstarched  shirt 
front;  rather  rambling  clothes,  so  to  speak;  but  he  had 
a  fine  amiable  countenance,  bright  blue  eyes,  a  high 
impressive  forehead,  and  a  general  air  of  kindness,  dig- 
nity, and  one  might  also  say  knowledge.  He  always 
addressed  us  as  "men"  to  our  great  pleasure. 

The  room  filled  me  with  amazement.  All  around 
the  room  on  the  walls  were  blackboards  of  slate.  In  a 
little  shelf  at  the  bottom  running  along  the  base  of  the 
blackboards  were  sheep-wool  rubbers  with  handles  and 
small  pencils  of  chalk,  and  I  involuntarily  contrasted 
this  magnificence  with  the  simplicity  of  the  school 
from  which  I  had  just  come.  The  sum  or  problem 
given  to  all  those  at  the  boards,  about  twenty  I  should 
think,  was  to  extract  the  square  root  of  .5.  I  worked 
this  out  with  some  difficulty  and  announced  my  answer, 
which,  to  my  surprise,  was  pronounced  correct.  There- 
upon my  card  was  marked  and  I  was  dismissed  from 
that  examination.  The  other  examinations  I  do  not 
particularly  recall. 

Attending  upon  notice,  full  of  tremors,  sometime 
afterwards,  I  was  informed  by  the  venerable  Doctor 
that  I  was  admitted  and  was  asked  which  course  of 
study  I  would  select,  one  with  the  ancient  languages,  or 
one  with  modern  languages.  I  selected  the  course  with 
ancient  languages. 

As  most  boys  do,  perhaps,  unknown  to  their  teachers, 


172 


College  Life — The  Beginnings 


I  began  almost  involuntarily  to  study  the  characters 
of  the  principal  and  the  teachers  to  whom  I  recited,  and 
inasmuch  as  they  have  all  passed  away  it  may  perhaps 
be  no  impropriety  if  I  give  my  youthful  impressions  of 
them  and  of  the  internal  arrangements  of  the  Academy. 

If  my  surprise  at  finding  slate  blackboards  and  the 
rubbers  and  chalk  was  great,  my  surprise  was  still 
greater  at  what  were  to  me  the  luxurious  appointments 
of  the  class-rooms.  In  these  rooms  each  student  had  a 
revolving  stool,  with  a  back,  and,  so.  to  speak,  an  indi- 
vidual desk  which  instead  of  being  of  pine  grained  to 
resemble  oak  was  of  cherry,  or  some  other  natural  wood, 
and  these  finely  furnished  desks  and  seats  gave  an  air 
to  me  of  great  luxury.  The  heating  apparatus,  the  hot 
air  system,  was  another  great  surprise.  The  heat  in  my 
school  was  from  great  coal  stoves,  one  in  each  class- 
room and  several  large  stoves  in  the  large  room.  All  the 
appointments  of  the  Free  Academy  were  so  fine  and  su- 
perior in  comparison  with  that  of  the  school  I  came 
from  that  it  was  a  long  time  before  I  came  to  look  upon 
them  as  a  matter  of  course. 

Doctor  Webster  was  an  honorable,  high-minded  gen- 
tleman but,  while  a  fine  disciplinarian,  was,  in  my  opin- 
ion, a  very  poor  teacher.  As  he  graduated  very  high  in 
his  class  at  West  Point,  he  was  undoubtedly  a  well 
educated  man,  but  he  lacked  that  indefinable  thing,  the 
power  of  teaching,  of  stimulating  the  minds  of  the  stu- 
dents to  take  an  interest  in  the  subject  under  considera- 
tion, the  power  of  clear  thinking  as  to  the  best  way  of 


Second  Floor  Corridor. 
View  to  the  north,  showing  '85's  Memorial  Window,  side  glimpse  of  the  Ichthy- 
osaurus, and  the  series  of  art  photographs  ranged  along  the  wall. 


173 


College  Life — The  Beginnings  175 


communicating  knowledge  to  those  minds,  and  the 
power  of  clear,  succinct  expression.  Our  class  had 
opportunities  to  study  him  when  he  taught  us  in  his 
own  branch.  Moral  Philosophy,  or  in  other  subjects  in 
the  absence  of  some  of  the  other  teachers. 

Professor  Ross  was  in  some  respects  the  best  teacher 
I  ever  sat  under.  He  also  was  a  West  Point  graduate 
and  stood  high  in  his  class.  In  fact,  the  whole  atmos- 
phere of  the  Free  Academy,  when  I  was  there,  was 
strongly  suggestive  of  West  Point.  During  the  last 
year  I  was  at  school  one  of  the  teachers  took  up  for  the 
highest  class  the  study  of  algebra.  Study  as  I  would  I 
could  make  nothing  of  it  under  him.  When  I  went  up 
to  the  Free  Academy  I  had  a  dread  of  beginning  that 
study;  but  under  Ross  not  only  algebra,  but  geometry, 
descriptive  geometry,  analytical  geometry,  and  plane 
trigonometry  became  to  me  as  simple  as  A-B-C.  When 
our  class  had  reached  trigonometry  Professor  Ross  was 
taken  ill  and  died  soon  after.  Doctor  Webster  took  our 
class  in  mathematics  for  a  few  months  and  it  was  unfor- 
tunate, perhaps,  that  he  should  follow  such  a  teacher  as 
Ross,  for  the  contrast  between  his  methods,  if  one  may 
call  them  such,  and  Ross's  was  too  striking  not  to  make 
a  great  impression  on  me,  at  least,  and  apparently  on 
the  whole  class.  Ross's  place  was  subsequently  taken 
by  Wiiliam  B.  Franklin,  another  West  Pointer,  after- 
wards one  of  the  prominent  generals  in  the  Civil  War. 
on  the  Union  side.  He  conducted  our  studies  for  six 
months,  in  the  mathematics  of  mechanics,  such  as  the 


i76  College  Life — The  Beginnings 

inclined  plane,  the  wheel  and  axle,  and  the  pulley.  We 
used  "  Bar tlett's  Mechanics,"  written  in  the  synthetic 
method. 

Franklin  was  a  fine  teacher,  with  a  manner,  however, 
quite  different  from  Ross's,  not  so  suave  nor  sympa- 
thetic, but  with  a  method  somewhat  after  the  military 
style.  For  instance,  the  students  would  be  seated  in 
the  class-room;  Franklin  would  enter,  a  tall,  erect, 
broad  shouldered,  handsome  man,  the  students  having 
their  books  open,  cramming  for  the  recitation.  The 
moment  he  sat  down  would  come  the  order,  ' '  Down 
your  books,"  then  he  would  say,  "Steers,  take  the 
floor,"  and  I  would  immediately  inarch  out  and  stand 
midway  between  him  and  the  students  in  the  rear  of 
me,  and  he  would  catechize  me  upon  the  lesson.  He 
\\( >uld  not  limit  himself  always  to  the  immediate  lesson, 
but  would  ask  questions  collateral  to,  or  which  might 
be  deduced  from,  the  particulars  stated  in  the  books. 
While  one  might  answer,  if  one  had  time  to  think,  his 
manner  was  very  apt  to  nonplus  the  students,  espe- 
cially those  who  did  not  have  their  lessons  very  well 
committed  to  memory.  He  was  a  man  of  clear  mind, 
clear  expression,  knew  what  he  wanted,  and  even  if  his 
method  savored  more  of  the  driving  than  the  enticing. 
he  was  a  fine  teacher. 

After  him  in  that  department  came  Professor 
Nichols,  a  mild,  gentle,  amiable  gentleman,  not  with  the 
power  of  either  Franklin  or  Ross,  but  with  a  clear  and 
sufficient  knowledge  of  the  subject  to  carry  the  class 


a 
3 

>> 

.P 


o 


College  Life — The  Beginnings  179 

into  spherical  geometry  and  trigonometry,  astronomy, 
and  the  calculus. 

Our  Professor  of  English  Language  and  Literature 
was  the  Reverend  Theodore  Irving,  a  nephew  of  Wash- 
ington Irving,  a  slender  man,  with  beautiful  dark  brown 
eyes,  intellectual  face,  somewhat  scant}-  dark  hair,  and  in 
every  way  a  refined  and  cultivated  gentleman.  I  think 
the  class  enjoyed  the  sessions  with  Professor  Irving  as 
much  if  not  more  than  with  almost  any  other  professor 
in  the  Academy.  He  seemed,  to  me  at  least,  to  have  a 
very  broad  and  full  acquaintance  with  English  lit- 
erature, and  his  rhetoric  and  spoken  English  were  per- 
fect, without  any  trace  of  pedantry.  When  Professor 
Irving  resigned  his  professorship  to  become  the  rector  of 
Saint  Ann's  Church  on  Staten  Island,  Professor  Barton 
was  appointed  to  succeed  him. 

Professor  Barton  was  another  gentlemanly,  cultured 
man,  of  great  dignity  and  reserve.  The  recitations 
under  him,  to  me,  were  much  less  interesting  than  they 
had  been  under  Irving.  They  were  chiefly  recitations, 
with  very  little  discursive  criticism  of  the  writers  or 
their  styles,  which,  as  I  remember,  we  had  enjoyed  under 
Irving. 

Our  Professor  of  Chemistry  and  Physics  was  Doctor 
Oliver  Wolcott  Gibbs,  who  came  to  us,  I  think,  almost 
fresh  from  his  studies  under  Liebig.  He  was  a  remark- 
ably handsome  man,  dark,  with  almost  black  hair,  finely 
cut  features,  clear  complexion,  blue  eyes,  and  a  certain 
air,  one  might  almost  call  aristocratic  in  his  general  man- 


i8o 


College  Life — The  Beginnings 


ner.  He  was  not  what  seemed  to  me  a  great  although  he 
was  a  good  teacher.  His  strength  lay  rather  in  scientific 
investigations  in  his  department  than  in  teaching.  He 
was  a  little  impatient  of  the  time  lost  in  preparing  ex- 
periments for  his  class,  which  sometimes  succeeded  and 
at  other  times  did  not,  just  for  lack  of  preliminary  prep- 
aration, but  at  the  same  time  he  made  the  subjects  he 
taught  very  interesting  to  me,  and,  as  it  seemed  to  me, 
to  most  of  the  members  of  the  class,  except  one,  who 
would  persist  in  apparently  going  to  sleep.     He  would 

be  awakened   by  the  cry,  " ,  don't   go  to  sleep," 

which  angered  him  and  caused  us  much  amusement. 
This  gentleman  has  subsequently  become  a  very  promi- 
nent lawyer.  I  enjoyed  the  mathematics  under  Ross 
and  the  chemistry  and  physics  under  Gibbs  more  than 
any  other  studies.  Gibbs  subsequently  left  the  Acad- 
emy and  became  famous  at  Harvard  University. 

The  Professor  of  Latin  and  Greek,  Doctor  John  J. 
Owen,  was  undoubtedly  a  very  learned  man  in  his  sub- 
jects, and  he  was  what  might  be  called  a  fair  teacher, 
but  his  manner  was  dry  and  uninteresting,  to  me  at 
least,  and,  so  far  as  I  remember,  he  rarely  smiled  and  he 
seemed  to  be  absorbed  in  his  Greek  and  Latin  studies, 
and  especially  in  his  Greek  books,  which  we  used  in  our 
studies. 

Of  course,  it  is  understood  that  I  am  only  giving  my 
own  impressions,  which  it  is  quite  possible  were  wrong 
because  of  my  immaturity. 

I  did  not  enjoy  the  lessons  under  Doctor  Owen  for 


C    1> 

*  g 

X.     C 

t— -    aj 

a -a 

HE 


College  Life — The  Beginnings  183 

two  reasons:  First,  owing  to  a  defective  verbal  mem- 
ory, it  was  not  easy  for  me  to  commit  words  literally  to 
memory.  If  I  could  work  out  a  result  from  premises  or 
facts,  I  could  retain  the  result  in  my  memory,  but  a 
naked  statement,  even  though  expressing  a  fine  thought, 
would  not  stick  in  my  memory,  except  after  great  study 
and  innumerable  repetitions.  The  second  reason  was 
the  entire  absence  of  a  feeling  of  sympathy  between  Dr. 
Owen  and  myself,  the  cause  of  which  was  quite  possibly 
in  myself. 

There  was  a  Professor  of  Drawing,  Mr.  Paul  Peter 
Duggan,  a  slender,  pale  gentleman,  with  big,  sad  gray 
eyes,  and  a  general  air  of  physical  feebleness,  but  an 
artist  to  the  tips  of  his  fingers.  I  enjoyed  the  drawing 
very  much,  perhaps  because  of  a  long  line  of  ship- build- 
ing ancestors.  If  I  remember  aright  I  was,  much  to 
my  surprise,  awarded  the  prize  for  drawing  (my  only 
prize)  upon  graduation. 

Among  other  studies  which  I  disliked  was  ancient 
history.  I  cannot  now  recall  the  professor  or  assistant 
professor  to  whom  we  recited,  but  I  know  the  whole  sub- 
ject was  dreary  to  me,  because  it  consisted  of  commit- 
ting to  memory  a  large  volume  of  stories  of  individuals, 
kings  and  warriors,  with  whom  I  felt  no  special  sympa- 
thy, and  this  process  was  to  me  dreary  drudgery.  I 
am  not  sorry  to  say  that  not  a  trace  of  it,  so  far  as  I  can 
discover,  remains  with  me  to  this  day. 

In  the  second  or  third  year,  I  forget  which,  some 
proportion  of  our  class  took  up  Spanish  under  Professor 


184  College  Life — The  Beginnings 

Morales,  a  small,  dignified  gentleman,  with  the  typical 
black  hair  and  eyes  of  his  nation,  a  man  who  was 
extremely  sensitive,  but  a  good  teacher,  and  while  I 
still  found  difficult)"  in  committing  arbitrary  words  and 
sounds  to  memory,  yet  I  enjoyed  studying  with  Pro- 
fessor Morales,  as  he  was  a  kindly,  sympathetic  teacher. 

About  the  same  time  our  class  took  up  the  study  of 
German  under  Professor  Theodore  Glaubensklee,  a  typ- 
ical Teuton,  who  might  be  called,  without  intending  dis- 
respect, a  mechanical  teacher.  That  stud}- 1  also  enjoyed 
to  a  degree — not  quite  so  much  though  as  the  study  of 
Spanish — but  it  was  still  open  to  the  same  objections 
that  I  had  to  other  studies  which  required  the  commit- 
ting to  memory  of  words  and  sounds  which  had  no  con- 
nection with  any  process  of  reasoning.  The  result  was 
that  while  my  lessons  in  mathematics  and  in  chemistry 
and  physics  were  a  pleasure,  all  the  other  lessons  were 
hard,  and  in  order  to  get  them  I  was  obliged  to  study 
from  five  to  six  hours  outside  of  the  regular  hours  of 
the  Academy. 

Our  hours  at  the  Academy  were  from  nine  to  three 
five  days  in  the  week,  with  an  intermission  of  half  an 
hour  from  twelve  to  half  past  twelve,  and  a  half  day  on 
Saturday.  Saturday,  was  I  think,  usually  given  up  to 
orator\'  with  an  instructor,  who  was,  if  I  may  speak  as 
I  think,  a  pompous  incompetent.  He  indulged  in  the 
flowing  gestures  of  the  arms  and  the  old  elocutionary 
modulation  of  the  voice  and  more  or  less  ungraceful 
poses  of    the  body,  which  were,  perhaps,  considered 


a 


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'/- 


u 


O   ^3 


C    *-> 

u    C 

ID     1) 


O 


College  Life — The  Beginnings  187 

absolutely  necessary  elements  of  oratory  in  those  days, 
but  which  struck  me  as  being  rather  absurd. 

I  am  afraid  that  I  was  deficient  in  a  proper  respect 
for  some  of  my  teachers  while  in  the  College,  which 
sometimes  led  to  my  discomfiture.  I  recall  one  circum- 
stance in  Professor  Ross's  room  when  he,  having  a 
severe  cold,  called  in  an  assistant,  a  Mr.  Palmer,  to  con- 
duct his  lessons  while  he  himself  sat  there,  to  supervise, 
in  a  way,  the  recitation.  I  had  a  proposition  in  geom- 
etry to  recite,  and  I  thought  a  remark  or  question  by 
Palmer  to  be  foolish.  I  answered  him  in  a  rather  flip- 
pant manner,  whereupon  Ross  instantly  arose  to  his 
feet  and,  with  an  expression  of  almost  wounded  dignity, 
chided  me  for  my  lack  of  respect  and  in  his  deep  serious 
manner  said  that  I  should  treat  Mr.  Palmer  with  just 
as  much  respect  as  I  treated  him.  Feeling  that  I  was  in 
the  wrong,  and  having  no  defence,  I  said  nothing.  My 
lack  of  respect  for  my  teachers  unless  they  showed  men- 
tal power  or  ability  appeared  on  several  occasions  in 
my  relations  with  Doctor  Webster.  It  was  not  long 
after  my  entrance  before  I  realized  that  his  system 
of  discipline  consisted  very  largely  in  magnifying  tri- 
fling violations  of  rules  which  it  is  often  best  not  to 
appear  to  see;  and  his  severe  and  almost  imperious 
manner,  developed  by  military  training,  was,  to  me  at 
least,  very  unpleasant.  While  I  might,  and  proba- 
bly did,  violate  some  of  the  rules,  yet  I  would  never 
admit  that  I  was  in  a  sense  disobedient  or  disorderly, 
but  from  the  first  I  felt  an  utter  lack  of  kindly  sympathy 


i88 


College  Life — The  Beginnings 


between  the  Doctor  and  myself.  That  lack  of  sympa- 
thy showed  itself  on  several  occasions  in  a  greater  or 
less  degree,  but  one  of  the  more  striking  examples  of  it 
which  I  now  recall  happened  in  this  wise:  The  boys 
used  to  run  races  in  the  recess  hour  around  Gramercy 
Park,  which  then  had  an  earth  walk  all  around  it.  One 
of  the  students  in  our  class  was  a  great  favorite  with 
the  Doctor,  partly  because  he  was  a  very  well  behaved 
young  man  and  partly  because  he  studied  to  win  the 
Doctor's  good  favor  by  a  kind  of  obsequiousness  which 
did  not  bring  him  into  favor  with  the  other  students. 
Upon  one  occasion,  when  I  wras  chasing  a  boy  around 
Gramercy  Square,  and  had  nearly  captured  him,  this 
student,  who  by  the  way  wore  glasses,  suddenly  ap- 
peared in  my  way.  He  was  walking  aimlessly  and  re- 
gardless of  the  racers,  and  I  was  rather  vexed  at  losing 
my  prey,  so  with  my  open  hand  I  slapped  his  face, 
knocking  his  glasses  into  the  Park  through  the  railing, 
partly  to  get  him  out  of  my  path  and  partly  by  way  of 
resentment.  I  immediately  stopped  and  made  a  long 
search  for  the  glasses,  but  could  not  find  them.  In  a 
short  time  I  was  summoned  by  the  Doctor,  with  my 
victim  as  the  complainant.  The  Doctor  stated  what  the 
complaint  was  and  asked  me  if  that  was  correct,  and  I 
said  it  was.  He  asked  me  why  I  did  it,  and  I  told  him 
frankly  of  my  vexation  at  being  interrupted.  The  Doc- 
tor immediately  lectured  me  on  the  impropriety  of  my 
behavior  and  after  he  had  finished  I  stated  to  him  as 
mildly  as  I  could,  because  I  was  feeling  a  little  vexed, 


~-r. 

a 


o 
o 

si 

M 


o  p 


College  Life — The  Beginnings  191 

that  I  did  not  think  the  authority  of  the  college  officers 
extended  beyond  the  limits  of  the  college  building  and 
grounds.  His  face  flushed  and  in  very  angry  tones  he 
announced  that  we  "were  always  under  the  authority 
of  the  college  officers."  I  repeated  my  former  state- 
ment, insisting  that  I  only  considered  myself  subject  to 
their  authority  when  I  was  either  in  the  college  or  in  the 
college  grounds.  The  Doctor  seemed  at  a  loss  for 
words  for  a  time  and  then  exclaimed,  "How,  how,  you 
are  all  wrong."  In  a  moment  of  diplomacy  I  gave  my 
victim  a  dollar  for  a  pair  of  glasses  and  the  incident  was 
closed. 

On  another  occasion,  the  Doctor,  being  fond  of  en- 
couraging military  exercises  among  the  students,  ap- 
proved of  the  formation  of  a  military  squad  of  about 
twelve  or  fifteen  students,  which  was  under  the  com- 
mand of  Mr.  Nicholas  Babcock,  a  student.  This  squad 
were  armed  with  wooden  guns  and  they  used  to  drill  in 
Twentv-third  Street  and  on  Lexington  Avenue  during 
part  of  the  recess  hour.  Four  or  five  members  of  my 
class,  including  myself,  took  it  into  our  heads  to  test 
the  military  skill  and  proficiency  of  this  squad,  and  form- 
ing ourselves  into  what  used  to  be  called  the  Macedo- 
nian phalanx,  now  called  the  flying  wedge,  with  myself 
at  the  apex  of  the  triangle,  we  charged  the  army  under 
Captain  Babcock,  pierced  its  centre,  and  drove  it  into 
full  retreat.  Captain  Babcock  duly  made  his  complaint 
to  the  Doctor  and  we  were  all  haled  before  him,  and  I, 
as  the  apex  of  the  triangle,  was  required  to  give  an 


192  College  Life — The  Beginnings 

explanation  of  our  disorderly  conduct.  Recalling  to 
mind  such  military  terms  as  I  could  remember,  I  in  sub- 
tance  told  the  Doctor  that  we  had  become  interested  in 
military  manoeuvres,  and  having  in  our  studies  learned 
about  the  Macedonian  phalanx,  thought  it  a  fine  oppor- 
tunity to  try  its  efficacy,  and  seeing  what  we  thought 
was  a  good  opportunity  to  put  our  theories  in  practice, 
we  drove  the  phalanx  against  Captain  Babcock's  squad, 
resulting  in  the  defeat  of  the  squad.  It  took  all  the 
Doctor's  self-possession  to  refrain  from  smiling,  but  I 
could  see  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  an  unusual  thing  for 
him,  and  after  a  few  words  of  reproval  the  Macedo- 
nian phalanx  was  dismissed. 

Our  class  was  named  Class  A,  admitted  in  January, 
1849.  There  was  a  summer  examination  for  admission 
in  1849  arRl  Class  B  was  admitted.  At  admission  our 
class  numbered  about  one  hundred  and  forty.  I  do  not 
remember  the  number  in  Class  B,  but  at  the  end  of  a 
year  and  a  half  or  two  years  both  classes  had  been  so 
reduced  by  students  failing  to  pass  subsequent  examina- 
tions and  bv  those  leaving,  that  the  two  classes  were 
united;  so  that  while  those  of  A  spent  four  and  a  half 
years  in  the  Academy,  those  of  B  spent  only  four. 

Among  the  students  of  Class  B.  was  Mr.  Alfred  G. 
Compton.  There  was  nothing  remarkable  in  Comp- 
ton's  appearance  except  a  very  sandy  head  of  hair,  a 
very  freckled  face,  and  a  somewhat  short  stature,  but 
when  he  was  called  upon  to  recite  in  any  of  our  studies, 
it  was  a  very  close  thing  between  him  and  John  Hardy, 


College  Life — The  Beginnings  195 

Charles  L.  Holt,  and  Benjamin  S.  Raynor.  I  think 
Hardy  had  the  better  verbal  memory,  but  in  no  other 
respect  was  he  superior  to  Compton  or  Holt.  When 
either  Hardy,  Holt,  or  Compton,  and  particularly  Comp- 
ton, was  called  to  the  board  to  recite  in  mathematics, 
there  arose  in  my  mind  mingled  feelings  of  envy  and 
pleasure;  envy  because  I  could  not  do  the  thing  so  well, 
and  pleasure  because  the  thing  was  so  well  done.  Those 
four,  Hardy,  Raynor,  Compton,  and  Holt,  were  our  ban- 
ner students,  but  Raynor  was  only  a  memorizer,  and 
he  was  mentally  far  inferior  to  the  others.  The  honor 
men  of  our  class  were  in  this  order:  Hardy,  Raynor, 
Compton,  Holt,  Steers. 

Our  amusements  consisted  chiefly  in  races  around 
Gramercy  Square,  and  around  the  Academy  building. 
There  was  an  open  space  all  around  it  about  the  width 
of  the  present  dooryards  on  Twenty-third  Street,  and 
the  boys,  especially  the  younger  ones,  were  very  much 
given  to  shouting  and  racing  and  sometimes  wrestling 
there.  The  Doctor,  in  pursuance  of  his  minute  system 
of  discipline,  usually  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  walk 
leading  from  Twenty-third  Street  into  the  building, 
partly  for  the  purpose  of  stopping  the  racing  across  the 
walk,  and  partly  for  the  purpose  of  detecting  the  cul- 
prits and  demeriting  them.  He  was  not  at  all  a  strik- 
ing object  as  he  stood  there,  bald-headed,  with  his  thin 
gray  hair  blown  about  by  the  breeze,  furtively  watch- 
ing whom  he  might  identify,  and  the  boys  racing  past 
him  when  his  back  was  turned. 


196  College  Life — The  Beginnings 

Another  of  our  amusements  was  playing  "knuckle 
all  over"  in  Twenty-third  Street,  between  Third  and 
Lexington  avenues.  One  can  fancy  the  primitive  state 
of  things  when  twenty  or  thirty  boys  could  play 
"knuckle  all  over"  with  a  powerfully  thrown  ball 
through  Lexington  Avenue  with  no  one  to  forbid,  no 
policeman  in  sight,  few,  if  any,  houses,  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. If  I  remember  rightly  the  street  was  unpaved. 
Another  of  our  amusements  when  we  came  to  a  holiday, 
generally  during  the  May  week  or  on  Saturday  after  the 
morning  session,  were  the  boating  parties  on  the  East 
River  to  Riker's  Island.  The  several  preparations  for 
these  excursions  were  allotted  to  sub-committees.  The 
committee  of  the  whole  generally  comprised  Hardy, 
Holt,  Compton,  Brant,  and  myself.  I  think  Compton 
was  the  committee  on  res  frumentaria,  Brant  the  com- 
mittee on  liquid  refreshments,  Hard)-  was  on  complex 
apprehension,  vulgarly  known  as  a  pack  of  cards,  Holt 
I  forget,  and  mine  was  the  committee  on  boat  and  the 
tides. 

The  means  of  reaching  the  College  or  Academy  in 
those  days  were  very  primitive.  Some  lived  in  Harlem 
and  could  only  reach  the  Academy  by  means  of  omni- 
buses or  stages,  which  ran,  I  think,  every  half- 
hour  or  hour.  My  home  was  in  Seventh  Street,  near 
the  East  River,  and  my  only  means  of  getting  to  the 
Academy  was  to  walk,  a  little  less  than  two  miles.  The 
walks  during  the  spring  and  fall  were  very  pleasant. 
In  the  winter  heavy  snows  and  storms  made  it  rather 


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James  Toher  (late  U.  S.  Cavalry)  was  for  many  years  Assistant  to  the  Libra, 
rian  and  held  here  under  his  care  all  books  and  all  supplies  of 
every  kind  distributed  free  of  charge  to  the  students. 


197 


College  Life — The  Beginnings  199 

the  reverse,  and  innumerable  days  I  spent  in  the  col- 
lege building  with  more  or  less  cold,  wet  feet  and  wet 
clothes. 

Several  of  the  students  lived  at  or  near  my  home, 
and  we  generally  went  together  both  coming  and  going. 
There  were  very  few  buildings  for  most  of  the  way  and 
we  used  to  make  the  trip  across  lots  and  in  doing  so  we 
excited  the  attention  of  some  of  the  young  inhabitants 
of  "Mackerelville,"  then  so-called,  a  shanty  district  in 
the  vicinity  of  Fourteenth  Street  and  First  Avenue. 
These  lads  took  a  great  interest  in  our  coming  and  go- 
ing to  the  extent  of  stoning  us  regularly.  By  force  of  a 
bad  example  we  naturally  fell  into  the  same  habit  by 
way  of  defence,  stoning  them,  so  it  was  that  every  morn- 
ing and  afternoon  there  was  a  running  battle  until  we 
reached  a  more  built  up  part  of  the  city  at  either  end  of 
our  journey.  Of  course,  there  were  no  policemen  about 
then,  except  now  and  then  one,  who  evidently  sympa- 
thized with  the  attacking  party.  One  of  these  occa- 
sions was  made  very  interesting  to  us  by  the  assistance 
of  a  very  large  student  by  the  name  of  Sullivan,  a  name 
which  to  me  has  always  the  suggestion  of  pugilism.  He 
was  at  least  six  feet  tall,  broad-shouldered  and  power- 
ful, and  a  very  indifferent  student.  The  attacks  on  us 
growing  more  and  more  violent  we  retained  Sullivan  as 
guard,  and  asked  him  to  accompany  us,  not  to  be  with 
us,  but  appear  as  an  outsider  and  so  get  close  to  the 
enemy.  When  the  shower  of  stones  was  flying  prettv 
thick  he  pounced  upon  the  stone  throwers  and  in  a  few 


200  College  Life — The  Beginnings 

minutes  they  lay  scattered  on  the  ground.  This  set- 
tled them  for  a  long  time. 

At  our  graduation  Hardy  was  valedictorian  and  bore 
off  most  of  the  prizes,  which  he  deserved.  Ravnor  was 
salutatorian  and  got  some  prizes.  Holt  and  Compton 
also  received  prizes,  while  I  trailed  along  with  the  prize 
for  drawing,  which  I  did  not  care  for  as  I  did  not  need 
that  stimulus  to  make  me  wish  to  do  as  well  as  I  could 
in  my  studies.  I  disliked  the  system  of  marking,  partly 
because  the  results  were  so  largely  dependent  upon  the 
point  of  view  of  the  teachers  and  their  inevitable  mis- 
takes, and  partly  because  of  the  heart  burnings  and 
charges  of  unfairness  against  the  teachers  made  by  dis- 
appointed students. 

Naturally,  as  the  last  year  of  our  stay  in  the  Acad- 
emy drew  towards  its  close,  our  graduation  ceremonies 
became  of  great  interest  to  us,  and  we  prepared  our 
graduation  orations  with  which  to  entertain  our  own 
relatives  and  friends,  and  bore  the  relatives  and  friends 
of  our  fellow- graduates.  The  subject  I  chose,  "The 
Feudal  System,"  was  interesting  to  me,  but  it  did  not 
occur  to  me  that  it  would  be  of  very  little  interest  to  the 
patient  audience  which  listened  to  us. 

The  ceremonies  were  held  at  Niblo's  Garden,  a  large 
theatre  in  Broadway  near  Houston  Street,  and  the  class 
sat  in  the  theatre  seats  in  front  of  the  stage.  The 
stage  was  arranged  with  chairs  for  the  president, 
seated  behind  a  large  table,  and  professors,  mem- 
bers of  the  Board  of  Education,  and  invited  guests. 


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College  Life — The  Beginnings  203 

On  the  table  were  our  certificates  of  graduation 
and  the  prizes  which  were  to  be  distributed.  There 
was  music  by  a  small  orchestra  alternating  with  the  ora- 
tions. All  of  the  seventeen  members  of  the  class  spoke. 
I  forget  the  subjects  chosen  by  the  other  orators,  but  I 
thought  they  all  did  better  than  I  did,  for  right  in  the 
middle  of  mine  I  forgot  the  rest  of  it  for  a  few  minutes. 
The  audience  kindly  applauded  me,  then  I  rambled  on 
extempore  awhile  until  the  rest  of  the  oration  came  back 
to  me.  and  I  never  knew  how  I  dovetailed  the  new  with 
the  old,  but  I  did  it,  and  retired  with  more  applause. 

The  finest  oration.  I  thought,  was  John  Hardy's  vale- 
dictory, both  in  matter  and  deliver}-.  Then  came  ad- 
monitory addresses  to  the  students,  by  the  president 
and  others,  then  the  prizes  were  distributed,  and  as 
prize  after  prize  was  awarded  to  Hardy,  there  was  most 
tumultuous  applause.  Each  of  the  other  prize  men  were 
applauded ;  even  I  with  my  solitary  prize  in  drawing  re- 
ceived a  proportionate  amount. 

Our  certificates  were  handed  to  us  by  the  venerable 
Doctor  and  we  departed  to  seek  out  our  friends  to 
receive  their  congratulations. 


The   Early  Sixties 

Ira   Remsen,  '65 

TpHOUGH  I  have  the  honor  to  be  a  Bachelor  of 
*  Arts  of  the  College  of  the  City  of  New  York,  I 
am  not  in  the  usual  sense  an  alumnus  of  the  Col- 
lege. This  may  sound  paradoxical  but  nevertheless 
it  is  true.  For  reasons  which  I  need  not  go  into,  I  left 
college  towards  the  end  of  the  Sophomore  year.  If  I 
had  stayed  I  should  have  received  my  degree  in  the  ordi- 
nary course  of  events  in  the  year  1865.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  I  did  receive  it  about  1890,  or  thirty  years  after  en- 
tering. It  took  me  thirty  years  to  earn  the  degree,  and 
the  average  student  earns  it  in  five.  That  is  a  plain 
statement  of  fact.  What  conclusion  to  draw  I  do  not 
know,  nor  do  I  know  that  it  is  necessary  to  draw 
any  conclusion.  My  only  object  in  referring  to  this 
matter  at  all  is  to  avoid  sailing  under  false  colors. 

And  now  as  an  alumnus,  who  is  only  half  an  alum- 
nus, I  am  asked  to  write  something  for  the  Memorial 
Volume.  What  shall  it  be?  The  circumstances  natu- 
rally tempt  me  to  an  estimate  of  the  value  of  the  training 

I  received  at  the  College.     How  far  has  it  been  helpful 

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College  Life — The  Early  Sixties  207 

to  me  in  my  life  work?  I  wish  I  could  tell.  But  I  find 
it  extremely  difficult  to  reach  definite  conclusions  on 
such  subjects.  My  inclination  was  toward  scientific 
pursuits.  I  did  not  know  this  when  I  was  at  the  Col- 
lege nor  was  there  much  opportunity  to  find  it  out.  We 
had  a  few  lectures  in  chemistry  by  Professor  Wolcott 
Gibbs.  Now,  Professor  Gibbs  was  an  excellent  chemist, 
of  whom  the  country  is  proud,  but  what  can  an)-  one  do 
with  one  lecture  a  week  in  chemistry  or  any  other  sub- 
ject? I  remember  very  little  of  that  course  of  lectures 
except  the  word  sesqui-oxide.  That  made  an  impres- 
sion. But  this  can  hardly  be  called  scientific.  Indeed, 
I  am  quite  sure  that  chemistry  did  not  appeal  to  me  in 
that  form. 

The  only  other  attempt  at  science  made  in  those 
days  was  a  course  given  once  a  week  by  Professor  R. 
Ogden  Doremus.  He  lectured  in  the  chapel  on  human 
anatomy,  physiology,  geology,  and  astronomy.  I 
think  he  also  gave  us  a  few  talks  on  natural  philosophy 
but  I  came  out  of  this  unscathed  and  without  any  feel- 
ing that  I  should  like  to  devote  myself  to  scientific  pur- 
suits. This  is  no  reflection  on  Professor  Doremus.  He 
did  the  best  he  could  under  the  circumstances.  At  about 
this  time,  if  I  remember  correctly,  he  gave  a  popular 
course  on  chemistry  and  physics  at  the  Cooper  Insti- 
tute that  did  interest  me  very  much.  His  experiments 
were  highly  spectacular.  Great  crowds  went  to  hear 
him.  I  looked  forward  to  each  lecture  with  longing. 
I   cannot  sav  that   I    carried   away   anv  clear  ideas. 


208  College  Life — The  Early  Sixties 

That  was  probably  my  own  fault.     But  the  exhibition 
pleased  me  and  that  was  worth  something. 

Mathematics  came  easy  to  me.  At  the  end  of  the 
Introductory  year  I  found  that  one  of  the  Ward  Medals 
was  awarded  to  me  for  "Greatest  Proficiency  in  Alge- 
bra and  Geometry."  That  gave  me  satisfaction  and 
does  even  now.  I  was  looking  at  the  medal  not  long 
ago.  I  came  across  it  in  arranging  my  treasures.  The 
fact  that  I  was  head  of  the  class  in  mathematics  with- 
out being  conscious  of  any  effort  led  me  to  think  about 
taking  up  some  occupation  requiring  the  use  of  this 
branch.  I  talked  it  over  with  my  father  and  we  rather 
felt  that  civil  engineering  offered  an  excellent  field,  and 
for  a  time  that  idea  took  possession  of  me.  The  next 
year  we  to  k  up  calculus  and  this  also  seemed  easy,  and 
I  could  not  understand  why  any  one  should  find  it  diffi- 
cult, as  some  assuredly  did.  Its  significance  I  failed  to 
grasp.  I  could  do  the  tricks  and  liked  to  do  them,  but 
I  could  not  see  that  they  were  of  any  value  whatever. 
( )ne  day  I  met  Professor  Docharty,  who  was  then  the 
principal  professor  of  mathematics.  He  was  always 
pleasant  to  me  and  I  felt  that  he  was  more  or  less  sym- 
pathetic. He  asked  me  how  I  liked  my  work.  I  told 
him  truthfully  that  I  liked  the  calculus  but  I  could  not 
see  what  it  was  for.  To  this  he  replied,  "  Never  mind, 
that  will  all  come  out  right  in  time."  At  this  late  date 
I  do  not  wish  to  complain,  but  I  think  the  professor 
might  have  done  me  a  great  service  by  pointing  out, 
what  appeared  clear  much  later,  that  calculus  is  the 


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College  Life — The  Early  Sixties  2 1 1 

science  of  growth.  I  lost  my  interest  in  the  subject  not 
long  after  that  and  later  lost  my  knowledge  of  it,  so 
that  it  became  extremely  difficult  to  acquire  facility  in 
its  use.  This  experience  has  impressed  me  with  the 
great  difference  between  the  plasticity  of  the  mind  in 
early  youth  and  the  comparative  rigidity  which  charac- 
terizes it  a  few  years  afterward. 

Latin  and  Greek  I  studied  conscientiously  but  they 
did  not  give  the  pleasure  that  mathematics  did.  They 
caused  me  nospecial  difficulty  and  I  believe  the  daily  drill 
was  valuable.  The  interpretation  of  a  difficult  passage 
presents  numerous  problems  that  can  be  solved  defi- 
nitely, and  the  teacher  can  hold  the  pupil  accurately  to 
his  work.  With  a  good  teacher  there  is  nothing  slip- 
shod about  it.  We  were  not  required  to  read  a  great 
deal  in  order  that  we  might  "imbibe  the  spirit  of  the 
ancients,"  but  we  were  required  to  know  a  certain 
amount  each  day  and  to  defend  our  knowledge  at  every 
point.  That  drill,  I  repeat,  I  believe  was  valuable,  and 
the  most  valuable  feature  of  it  was,  in  my  opinion,  its 
accuracy.  I  cannot  believe  that  we  should  have  been 
nearly  as  much  benefited  if  we  had  been  obliged  to 
skim  over  a  lot  of  material  and  leave  it  with  a  most  im- 
perfect knowledge  of  its  meaning.  The  tendency  of 
this  latter  method  is  to  develop  slovenliness,  while  one 
of  the  chief  objects  of  education  is,  it  appears  to  me,  to 
overcome  the  natural  tendency  to  slovenliness. 

History  was  to  me  the  most  difficult  subject.  I  could 
not  remember  dates  and  the  other  important  facts  that 


212  College  Life — The  Early  Sixties 

make  up  a  certain  kind  of  history,  such  as  the  names  of 
a  long  line  of  rulers,  the  names  of  generals,  the  number 
killed  in  battle,  and  the  number  taken  prisoner.  I 
tried  hard  enough,  but  it  was  no  use.  Before  going  to 
bed  I  would  repeat  over  and  over  again  the  main  points 
that  were  to  come  up  the  following  day,  only  to  find  that 
they  had  not  stuck,  and  in  the  morning  I  had  to  go  at  it 
again,  and  with  very  little  time.  The  examinations  in 
history  were  terrible  to  me.  I  may  say  that  I  have 
always  felt  since  that  this  was  my  greatest  weakness  so 
far  as  power  of  acquiring  knowledge  is  concerned,  and  I 
have  been  led  to  read  more  history  than  I  should  per- 
haps otherwise  have  done.  This  has  given  me  a  good 
deal  of  pleasure  and  also  some  pain,  for  I  still  find  it  very 
difficult  to  remember  what  I  read  in  this  line.  Curi- 
ously enough  I  do  not  find  it  difficult  to  remember  the 
history  of  chemistry.  My  knowledge  of  the  literature 
of  chemistry,  which  is  extensive,  is  unusually  good,  and, 
apparently,  for  facts  in  which  I  have,  as  it  were,  a  per- 
sonal interest  my  memory  is  better  than  the  average. 
I  mention  this  because  I  think  it  is  interesting  from  the 
psychological  point  of  view. 

In  connection  with  the  work  in  history  I  am  re- 
minded of  an  incident  which  I  think  worth  recalling. 
My  standing  in  my  classes  was  high  during  the  first 
year.  I  think  I  was  head  of  the  class  the  second  half 
vear.  I  am  not  sure  of  this.  It  may  have  been  an- 
other half-vear.  At  all  events  the  next  term  we  took 
up  history  and  that,  for  the  reason  I  have  given,  pulled 


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College  Life — The  Early  Sixties  215 

me  down.  My  recollection  is  that  I  fell  to  the  seventh 
or  eighth  place.  Well,  that  was  a  good  deal  of  a  fall. 
I  felt  badly  about  it,  but  I  simply  could  n't  help  it.  Now 
for  the  incident.  One  day  one  of  my  teachers  with 
whom  at  that  time  I  had  had  but  little  to  do,  came  to 
me  and  said,  "  Remsen,  I  notice  that  you  did  not  do  as 
well  last  term  as  usual.  What  's  the  matter? "  I  did  not 
explain.  Perhaps  I  was  ashamed  to.  Perhaps  I  felt 
that  the  explanation  was  not  adequate.  I  do  not  know 
how  this  may  have  been,  but  I  do  know  that  the  kindly 
word  of  this  teacher  made  a  lasting  impression  upon  me. 
I  have  since  had  the  satisfaction  of  telling  him  so.  My 
fellow  alumni  will  not  be  surprised  to  learn  that  the 
teacher  I  am  speaking  of  is  Professor  Adolph  Werner. 
At  that  time  he  had  our  class  in  logic.  I  never  stud- 
ied German  under  him.  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  say  that 
as  soon  as  I  got  through  with  history  my  standing  rose 
again,  and  I  believe  Professor  Werner  rejoiced  as  much 
as  I  did. 

Drawing  played  an  important  part  in  our  course 
and  I  am  glad  it  did.  I  believe  it  furnishes  excellent 
training.  At  all  events  I  have  always  felt  since  that 
the  time  spent  in  the  drawing  room  was  well  spent.  I 
could  draw  fairly  well,  at  least  outlines.  I  did  try  the 
Laokoon  group  and  finished  it  after  a  fashion.  This 
was,  of  course,  too  much  for  me,  and  I  imagine  the  re- 
sult was  not  very  satisfactory.  I  afterwards  had,  for  a 
time,  the  idea  of  taking  up  artistic  work  for  a  profession 
because  I  liked  it  and  had  some  skill  at  drawing.     But 


216  College  Life — The  Early  Sixties 

I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  my  skill  was  not  sufficient. 
In  this  I  was  confirmed  by  the  judgment  of  a  friend  who 
was  a  professional  artist.  He  did,  to  be  sure,  encour- 
age me  somewhat  but  he  did  not  at  least  insist  that  I 
should  take  up  art.  I  remember  the  old  German  pro- 
fessor who  taught  us  drawing.  His  name  was  Koerner. 
The  boys  used  to  call  him  "  Point  in  space."  I  have  no 
doubt  that  he  was  a  good  teacher,  though  my  memory 
of  his  efforts  in  this  line  is  not  clear.  One  thing  I  do 
remember.  He  was  unconsciously  guilty  of  a  great  act 
of  injustice  to  me.  He  never  knew  it.  If  I  tell  the  story 
now  it  can  hurt  no  one's  feelings,  and  it  may  serve  as  a 
warning  to  some  who  may  be  inclined  to  reach  conclu- 
sions too  hastily.  The  case  was  this:  Among  other 
exercises  in  free-hand  drawing  we  had  to  copy  some  out- 
lines of  heads.  These  were  placed  before  us  on  the  wall 
and  we  drew  them  as  best  we  could.  I  happened  to  hit 
them  pretty  well.  At  the  end  of  the  week  the  professor 
told  us  that  he  had  marked  the  drawings  which  we  had 
handed  in.  The  names  of  the  class  were  called  off  in 
the  order  of  the  excellence  of  their  work.  To  my  great 
surprise  my  name  was  not  called  at  all.  At  the  close  of 
his  remarks  the  professor  said,  "  There  is  one  set  of 
drawings  that  I  have  not  marked  at  all  because  they  are 
so  accurate  that  I  am  sure  they  could  not  have  been  done 
honestly. ' '  Imagine  my  feelings !  I  did  not  say  a  word 
to  him  about  it.  What  good  could  that  do?  I  pro- 
tested to  my  classmates,  but  I  fear  some  of  them  were 
never  convinced  of    my  honesty  in  this    matter.      I 


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College  Life — The  Early  Sixties  219 

learned  what  it  was  to  be  a  martyr  in  a  small  way.  In 
this  connection  it  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  mention 
the  fact  that  one  of  my  sons  had  an  uncontrollable  desire 
to  be  an  artist  and  that  he  is  now  following  that  career. 
My  own  tastes  lead  me  to  take  much  pleasure  in  his 
work. 

There  was  n't  much  mischief  among  us  as  I  remem- 
ber it.  Certainly  nothing  very  bad.  We  used  to  mis- 
behave in  one  class-room  with  great  regularity.  The 
teacher  in  this  case  simply  could  not  keep  order.  If  a 
teacher  can't  he  can't  and  there  's  an  end  on't.  It  was 
a  waste  of  time  for  us  to  go  to  this  room.  We  were 
wrong,  of  course,  and  yet  that  same  thing  will  happen  in 
every  class-room  in  charge  of  a  teacher  who,  as  we  say, 
"can't  keep  order."  A  teacher  of  this  kind  lacks  per- 
sonal force  and  ought  not  to  be  a  teacher.  His  work  is 
bound  to  be  a  failure.  Nature  provides  that  the  pupils 
of  such  a  man  shall  make  it  as  uncomfortable  for  him  as 
possible — Nature's  hope  being  apparently  that  he  will 
give  it  up  and  go  into  something  else.  Too  often  Na- 
ture hopes  in  vain. 

But  I  have  wandered  on  far  enough — perhaps  too 
far.  I  have  found  pleasure  in  recalling  those  old  days. 
Sometimes  I  regret  that  I  should  have  left  college.  At  all 
events  I  do  not  regret  the  time  spent  there.  My  life 
might  have  been  more  satisfactory  had  I  completed  the 
course,  or  had  I  had  the  opportunity  to  go  to  one  of  the 
larger  colleges  and  stay  there  until  I  was  twenty- two  or 
twenty- three  years  old  before  receiving  the  degree.     No 


220  College  Life — The  Early  Sixties 

one  can  tell.  As  matters  turned  out,  I  spent  five  years 
at  German  universities  not  long  after  I  left  and,  while 
devoting  myself  largely  to  a  specialty,  I  did  make  some 
effort  to  make  up  for  the  defects  of  my  earlier  education. 
The  training  I  received  at  the  College  was  of  value  to 
me,  I  am  sure.  I  have  already  said  that  I  believe  that 
the  chief  value  lay  in  the  daily  drill  in  subjects  the 
nature  of  which  makes  it  possible  for  the  teacher  to  fol- 
low every  step  of  the  pupil's  mental  processes,  and  to 
secure  accuracy. 


After  the  War 

John    R.   Sim,  '68 

\  \T  HEN  at  some  meeting  of  old  friends  and  col- 
lege-mates  I  look  back  through  a  vista  of 
more  than  forty  years  to  the  days  of  my  first 
entrance  into  the  old  "Free  Academy,"  I  find 
that  the  pictures  then  impressed  upon  my  mind 
seem  more  vivid  than  those  preserved  by  most  of  my 
companions.  Perhaps  this  is  only  because  I  was  a 
country  boy  freshly  come  to  the  city,  so  that  every- 
thing about  the  metropolis  struck  me  as  strange,  and 
my  mind  was  in  a  state  peculiarly  alert  to  receive  im- 
pressions. Those  were  the  war  days,  when  we  lads 
talked  more  of  battles  than  of  books,  and  the  old  Free 
Academy — or  young,  I  suppose  I  should  call  it,  for  its 
years  then,  as  now,  almost  exactly  matched  my  own — 
had  not  yet  changed  its  name.  That  came  in  my  Soph- 
omore year,  when,  with  its  new  title  as  the  College  of  the 
City  of  New  York,  the  institution  assumed  a  formal 
dignity  to  which  the  depth  and  thoroughness  of  its 
studies  well  entitled  it. 

Looking  back  I  can  see,  as  plainly  as  if  yesterday. 


222  College  Life — After  the  War 


'& 


the  great  barn  of  the  chapel,  in  which  we  assembled 
daily.  About  that  time  everybody  was  singing  how 
they  would  ' '  Hang  Jeff  Davis  on  a  Sour  Apple  Tree, ' '  and 
the  boys  used  to  cut  out  endless  effigies  of  the  unhappy 
victim.  A  thread  was  placed  about  the  figure's  neck, 
a  moist,  cling}*  wad  of  paper  was  attached  to  this,  and 
then  projected  violently  upward  against  the  walls  or 
lower  ceiling  of  the  chapel.  Generally  these  missiles 
returned  to  vex  the  sender,  but  occasionally  to  our 
unhallowed  joy,  one  of  them  would  stick  high  out  of 
reach.  When  a  gentle  breeze  swept  through  the  hall 
each  of  these  little  manikins  would  flutter  about  and 
jerk  and  toss  in  grewsome  suggestion  of  the  gasping 
struggle  between  life  and  death. 

Another  vivid  picture  shows  me  four  large,  open 
registers,  one  in  each  quarter  of  the  great  hall.  Through 
these,  when  all  went  well  in  the  regions  below,  there 
arose  a  steady  stream  of  hot  air.  Scarce  a  student  of 
any  originality  whatever  but  made  personal  inves- 
tigation of  the  odd  experiments  in  which  this  ascend- 
ing column  of  air  could  be  employed.  If  one  brought 
from  home  a  carefully  prepared  pocketful  of  old  paper 
torn  up  very  fine,  and  if,  in  a  fit  of  scientific  enthusiasm, 
one  tossed  the  whole  of  this  over  the  register,  the  atoms 
did  not  fall,  but  sweeping  upward  with  the  rush  of  air 
rose  grandly  to  the  ceiling,  thence  to  scatter  and  de- 
scend in  what  seemed  a  delicate  snowfall  over  the  entire 
hall.  No  other  experiment  proved  so  alluring  as  this — 
if  we  except  the  similar  one  of  dropping  a  few  grains  of 


Professor  Akthon's  Historical  Cabinet. 
A  corner  in  the  Second-Floor  Corridor. 


223 


College  Life — After  the  War  225 

pepper  into  the  air  column.  The  variety  of  echoing 
sneezes  which  responded  throughout  the  chapel  was  a 
marvel  and  a  thing  of  beauty,  to  remain  in  some  unregu- 
lated minds  a  joy  forever. 

Then  there  were  study  hours  in  the  chapel,  when  we 
gathered  round  those  registers  in  close  and  merry  com- 
radeship. The  back  of  the  great  room  had  seats  and 
desks,  but  in  the  front  were  benches  ranged  to  avoid 
those  heated  centres  of  temptation.  These  benches 
were  easily  gathered  in  social  squares  around  the  source 
of  heat,  while  on  the  outskirts  of  the  section  hovered 
livelier  students  on  mischief  bent.  A  favorite  prank 
with  those  desks  in  the  back — old-fashioned  desks  such 
as  many  of  you  must  remember,  made  for  two  with  a 
hole  for  an  inkstand  in  the  centre — was  to  kindle  a 
paper  fire  inside  and  let  the  flame  shoot  upward  through 
the  ink  hole.  Well  do  I  remember  the  startled  impres- 
sion made  upon  my  youthful  mind  the  first  time  I  saw 
this  happen,  and  saw  Fabregou — young  tutor  Fabregou 
then,  beloved  old  Fabregou  now,  still  happily  here 
among  us — saw  him  rush  with  vigorous  expostulations 
to  extinguish  the  blaze. 

I  could  recall  for  you  other  bits  like  these,  an  end- 
less series,  as  for  instance,  of  the  huge  wood  stoves  in 
the  lower  rooms  and  the  disorder  occasioned  by  them; 
but  this  entire  book  is  not  for  one  man's  reveries,  and  I 
hurry  on. 

Away  back  in  the  later  sixties,  and  for  years  pre- 
ceding and  following,  students  in  the  Classical  Course 


226  College  Life — After  the  War 


o 


had  the  option  of  taking  French,  German,  or  Spanish  in 
the  Senior  year.  Of  the  Classical  students  in  the  class 
of  '68  seven  elected  to  study  German.  In  alphabetical 
order  the}-  were:  Baker,  Bowker,  Chambers,  Crawford, 
Knox,  Pope,  and  Sim.  Baker,  the  class  poet,  and  after- 
wards author  of  "  Point  Lace  and  Diamonds,"  and  other 
popular  verse,  presently  dropped  out  for  reasons  not 
now  remembered,  and  graduated  with  '69.  The  re- 
maining six  survived  the  perils  of  the  first  term,  and 
February,  1868,  found  them  in  good  spirits,  undoubtedly 
well  satisfied  with  themselves — as  is  the  manner  of 
Seniors — and  looking  out  upon  the  world  with  a  sort  of 
wonder  that  the  world  had  thus  far  got  along  so  well 
without  their  help. 

In  those  days,  which  seem  but  as  yesterday  to  the 
writer,  the  schedule  of  recitations  was  dotted  here  and 
there  with  "study  hours,"  which,  as  I  have  suggested, 
were  usually  passed  in  the  chapel  under  the  supervision 
of  one  or  more  of  the  instructors.  It  fell  to  the  lot  of  the 
Classical  German  squad  of  six  to  have  a  couple  of  these 
study  hours  per  week  assigned  to  them  in  among  the 
recitations  of  the  second  term,  Senior  year;  and  as  a 
special  favor  from  President  Webster  they  were  per- 
mitted to  use  his  recitation-room  as  a  study-room,  with- 
out supervision.  This  room  was  on  the  ground  floor, 
in  the  northeast  corner  of  the  old  college  building,  its 
end  windows  opening  on  the  College  yard,  the  Work- 
shop-Laboratory Drawing  Room  extension  not  yet 
having  been  dreamt  of;  it  is  the  same  room  that  now 


History  Room. 
Professor  McGuckin.     On  the  walls  are  copies  of  illuminated  MSS.  made  by 
the  students,  also  a  facsimile  of  the  original  pact  of  freedom,  made  be- 
tween the  three  Swiss  cantons  in  1291 


227 


College  Life — After  the  War  229 

contains  the  engine  and  other  machinery  of  the  electric 
outfit.  ( )f  course  it  extended  then,  as  now,  under  a  part 
of  the  chemistry  lecture-room,  and  in  the  old  days  a 
large  stove  occupied  a  prominent  position  in  the  east 
centre  of  the  room,  and  sent  its  surplus  heat — when  it 
had  any — through  a  register  into  the  lecture-room  over- 
head. It  may  be  said,  by  the  way,  that  this  stove 
engaged  a  large  share  of  student  attention  from  day  to 
day,  during  cold  weather  especially.  It  was  generally 
either  red-hot  or  stone-cold,  its  condition  at  any  time 
being  the  result  usually  of  studied  effort  on  the  part  of 
some  student  or  students.  From  time  to  time  it  would 
emit  the  pungent  odors  of  burning  snuff,  and  other  sub- 
stances, introduced  on  the  sly  by  students  curious  in  the 
line  of  experiment;  while  every  now  and  then  muffled 
explosions  would  reverberate  through  its  vast  interior 
and  up  the  hot-air  pipe  into  the  lecture-room,  also  the 
result  of  unholy  student  activity. 

In  this  room,  rich  with  memories  and  associations, 
the  study  of  German  went  on  apace  on  the  part  of  the 
six  Seniors,  and  great  was  the  progress  they  all  made, 
for  the  acquisitions  of  each  were  at  the  service  of  all 
during  these  conferences.  And  even  in  comparatively 
modern  times  the  Professor  of  German  has  been  known 
to  refer  with  apparent  pride  to  the  amount  and  variety 
of  German  text  which  some  classes  covered  in  "  the 
brave  days  of  old." 

But  even  to  these  men  there  came  at  times  yearn- 
ings and  longings  of  the  soul  for  other,  if  not  always 


230  College  Life — After  the  War 


'& 


better,  things.  And  thus,  now  and  then,  a  weary 
brother  would  interrupt  the  proceedings  with  a  story 
or  a  joke;  and  presently  it  was  suggested  that  a  limited 
portion  of  each  hour  be  devoted  to  listening  to  such 
stories,  jokes,  conundrums,  etc.,  as  the  researchers  and 
narrators  might  think  worthy  of  being  presented  to 
such  a  company.  At  once  there  was  manifested  a 
variety  of  opinion  as  to  the  merit  of  many  of  the  offer- 
ings; and  it  was  soon  determined  that  orderly  procedure 
required  that  a  vote  should  be  taken  to  determine  offi- 
cially the  merit  of  each  story,  joke,  or  conundrum  pre- 
sented; and  that  a  majority  vote  should  be  necessary 
to  authorize  a  laugh;  and  that  any  one,  even  the  narra- 
tor himself,  who  ventured  to  laugh,  before  a  favorable 
vote  had  been  declared  and  a  signal  given,  should  be 
subject  to  a  fine.  A  Master  of  the  Revels  was  then 
appointed  and  the  German  section  entered  upon  a  new 
phase  in  its  career. 

The  scheme  worked  wonderfully  and  with  many 
surprises.  Occasionally  a  really  funny  thing  was  voted 
down — when  some  unfortunate  to  whom  the  fun  of 
it  was  irresistible,  no  longer  able  to  contain  himself, 
would  explode  and  so  subject  himself  to  the  reprobation 
of  the  Master,  as  well  as  to  a  fine.  Whenever  it  was 
voted  to  laugh,  on  the  signal  being  given,  the  quiet  of 
the  room  would  be  broken,  by  from  three  to  five  voices, 
with  such  shouts  as  might  fittingly  accompany  "  bedlam 
broken  loose."  The  company  discovered  presently, 
to  its  grief,  that  the  old  stove  with  its  hot-air  pipe  lead- 


The  Third-Floor  Corridor 

Looking    west.       Along    the   walls   are    the   cases    containing    models    and 

apparatus  of  the  Physics  Department. 


College  Life — After  the  War  233 

ing  into  the  chemistry  lecture-room  acted  as  a  speaking- 
tube  on  a  large  scale,  and  faithfully  discharged  the 
noises  from  the  "study  "-room  below  in  full  volume  into 
the  lecture- room  above.  When  Dr.  Doremus  inquired 
into  the  origin  of  these  disturbances,  and  learned  that 
they  resulted  from  the  ' '  concerted  study  of  Ger- 
man" in  the  room  below,  he  lodged  a  complaint  with 
Dr.  Webster,  and  the  German  section  was  forthwith 
dispossessed  and  ordered  to  report  on  study  hours  in  the 
ante-room  of  the  president's  office.  In  after  years  a 
part  of  this  room  was  partitioned  off  and  used  by  Mr. 
Mayell  as  his  office.  In  the  old  days  it  was  undivided 
by  partition,  and  its  furniture  consisted  of  a  few  chairs 
and  a  low  table  covered  with  green  oil-cloth,  which 
stood  on  the  right  hand  as  you  passed  into  the  Presi- 
dent's office.  It  was  at  this  table  that  the  President 
usually  interviewed  the  young  men  who  were  sent  to 
him  on  account  of  disorder.  The  office  proper  was 
closed  by  a  heavy,  solid  door  which  was  long  afterwards 
replaced  by  the  present  swinging  glass  doors.  The 
solid  door  usually  stood  open  when  the  President  was 
in  his  office. 

Dr.  Webster  kept  himself  posted  as  to  the  times  and 
seasons  when  his  German  friends  should  report  in  the 
ante-room;  he  always  greeted  them  kindly,  took  note 
of  any  absences,  and  frequently  urged  diligence  and 
increased  application  to  stud}' — though  the  Doctor 
knew  as  well  as  any  one  that  the  little  group  was  far 
above  the  average  in  scholarship,  containing,  as  it  did, 


234  College  Life — After  the  War 

four  men  of  honor  rank,  one  of  them  being  the  valedic- 
torian of  the  class. 

The  Doctor  found  it  a  difficult  matter  to  keep  his 
wards  together  all  the  time.  Very  often  when  he  stepped 
to  the  door,  apparently  to  count  them,  he  would  find 
one  or  more  missing,  and  he  had  the  good  sense  never  to 
presume  that  the  one  or  more  present  had  the  faintest 
idea  of  where  the  missing  ones  were.  He  would  search 
them  out  himself  and  bring  them  back  to  the  ante-room 
one  by  one;  and  very  often  he  would  restore  the  wan- 
derer to  his  place  at  the  table  with  an  audible  chuckle. 

Time  and  space  would  fail  me  to  tell  of  all  the  varied 
pranks  of  this  joyous  little  "German  band  "  of  six  while 
supposedly  under  the  eye  of  the  good  Doctor,  but  two 
stand  out  in  memory  so  distinctly  that  they  must  be  re- 
ferred to.  On  one  occasion  two  of  the  party  had  slipped 
away  unobserved  and  had  descended  to  the  ground  floor 
and  were  circumspectly  peeping  through  the  door  into 
Twenty- third  Street.  They  presently  heard  the  tones 
of  a  hurdy-gurdy  near  by  in  the  street,  and  it  was  the 
work  of  but  a  moment  to  get  into  touch  with  the  owner, 
lead  him  into  the  building  and  to  the  head  of  the  first 
flight  of  stairs,  and  there  inspire  him,  with  a  small  fee, 
to  do  his  utmost,  while  slowly  advancing  along  the  hall 
to  the  west.  The  two  culprits  had  barely  time  to  reach 
their  places  in  the  ante-room  when  the  old  organ  began 
to  do  its  loudest,  with  one  of  the  popular  airs  of  the 
time.  There  was  much  excitement  in  the  immediate 
neighborhood  for  a  few  moments;  heads  appeared  at 


31 


College  Life — After  the  War  237 


'& 


the  doorways  opening  into  the  hall;  the  little  German 
band,  closely  followed  by  the  Doctor,  was  out  at  once  to 
note  the  cause  of  the  hubbub,  the  four  innocent  mem- 
bers exhibiting  marked  signs  of  astonishment,  and  the 
other  two  feigning  to  do  so.  The  Doctor  advanced  on 
the  poor  organ-grinder;  the  latter  backed  slowly  to  the 
stair-head,  but  kept  the  crank  of  his  machine  going 
furiously  the  while,  as  if  determined  to  earn  his  fee; 
and  when  he  started  down  the  steps,  having  understood 
that  he  was  no  longer  wanted,  he  waved  his  hat  in  gen- 
eral farewell  to  the  small  crowd  which  had  by  this  time 
assembled.  The  Doctor  had  him  escorted  to  the  street 
by  the  worthy  janitor,  Mr.  Delaney,  who  had  appeared 
in  the  rear,  shortly  after  the  concert  had  begun;  and 
thus  ended  the  episode.  As  the  Doctor  passed  by  on 
his  return  he  looked  sadly  at  his  wards,  who  appeared  to 
be  hard  at  work  with  their  text-books;  but  whether  he 
suspected  any  of  them  of  complicity  in  the  musical  out- 
break they  never  learned. 

The  other  incident  occurred  on  an  occasion  when 
the  Doctor  passed  out  of  his  office  to  escort  a  lady  visitor 
to  the  stairway,  and  inadvertently  left  the  key  in  his 
office  door.  It  was  the  work  of  but  a  moment  for  one 
of  the  group  of  six  to  close  the  door,  lock  it,  and  slyly 
drop  the  key  into  the  pocket  of  another  of  the  party — 
the  valedictorian.  After  parting  from  the  lady  the 
Doctor  went  on  a  short  tour  through  the  building,  and 
did  not  return  to  his  office  at  once.  When  he  did  re- 
turn he  had  forgotten  that  he  had  left  the  door  of  his 


238  College  Life — After  the  War 


'& 


office  open.  He  searched  his  pockets  for  the  key,  and 
looked  all  about  the  ante-room  for  it — in  vain.  Then 
he  sent  for  the  janitor  and  had  him  call  at  the  rooms  he 
had  just  visited  and  make  inquiry,  but  the  key  was  not 
found  in  any  of  them.  The  mystery  truly  was  great; 
and  the  man  with  the  key  in  his  pocket  was  the  most 
sympathetic  and  the  most  puzzled  of  all  and  the  most 
active  in  the  search  for  the  missing  key.  It  presently 
appeared  that  the  Doctor's  hat  and  his  text-  and 
record-book  were  all  locked  up  in  the  office,  and  that 
the  Seniors  were  due  to  recite  to  him  in  International 
Law  the  very  next  hour.  By  this  time  the  man  who 
had  locked  the  door  and  hidden  the  key  was  somewhat 
alarmed  at  the  situation.  He  took  the  man  whose 
pocket  held  the  key  to  one  side  and  told  him  where  the 
key  was.  The  latter  was  indeed  startled.  After  a  hur- 
ried consultation  the  janitor  was  called  in  and  told  the 
facts,  and  the  key  was  given  to  him.  It  was  under- 
stood that  at  the  end  of  the  Senior  recitation  the  janitor 
told  the  Doctor  that  the  key  had  been  found  ' '  where  it 
was  not  lost,"  giving  the  Doctor  the  impression  that  he 
had  mislaid  it ;  and  no  further  questions  were  asked. 

It  ma>-  be  of  interest  to  know  that  in  spite  of  their 
periods  of  frivolity,  the  members  of  the  little  German 
band  all  passed  creditable  examinations  in  the  early 
summer  and  were  duly  graduated  towards  the  end  of 
June.  They  are  now  gray-headed  men,  but,  at  their 
occasional  meetings,  it  is  not  difficult  to  understand  why 
they  laugh  when  certain  incidents  of  their  undergrad- 
uate life  are  recalled. 


The  Change  from  the  Free 
Academy 

Robert    Abbe,  '70 

HPHERE  is  a  middle  period  in  the  life  of  an  institu- 
tion somewhere  between  the  first  struggles  of 
infancy,  when  all  the  promise  and  evidence  of 
greatness  is  conspicuous,  and  the  later  period  of  man- 
hood and  matured  greatness,  during  which  a  sort 
of  adolescence  and  forcing  one's  self  before  the  world 
is  the  most  noticeable  part  of  existence. 

The  claims  of  the  young  debutant  may  be  fitly  rep- 
resented in  the  second  quarter-century  of  the  growth  of 
our  College. 

Ambition  was  justified  by  an  already  fine  array  of 
noble  graduates,  by  a  well  ordered  and  sustained  college 
curriculum,  and  an  array  of  officers  and  teachers  of 
which  any  college  could  be  proud. 

At  this  juncture,  then,  the  claims  to  representation 
in  the  sisterhood  of  colleges  called  for  a  new  name. 
Those  who  entered  in  1866  with  the  writer  had  the  de- 
light of  joining  in  the  christening  of  the  College  of  the 

239 


240    College  Life — Change  from  Free  Academy 

City  of  New  York,  and  burying  the  old  "Free  Acad- 
emy." The  new  name  was  painfully  long — every  one 
knew  that — but  it  was  explicit.     That  was  enough. 

The  day  of  the  fateful  change  was  a  holiday,  and 
the  fete  was  as  elaborate  as  imagination  and  precedent 
could  make  it.  For  the  students,  the  night  was  the 
most  memorable  part  of  the  ceremonial. 

Those  were  days  of  torchlight  processions  such  as 
were  never  seen  before.  Several  years  of  civil  war  had 
accustomed  the  city  to  processions  whenever  a  great 
battle  had  been  won,  and  though  the  war  had  ended, 
the  habit  remained. 

On  the  miniature  campus  surrounding  the  fine  old 
gothic  structure  there  was  enough  grass  to  harbor  as 
loyal  and  lusty-hinged  a  lot  of  lovers  of  alma  mater  as 
any  college  needed,  to  celebrate  its  great  renaming. 
Let  us  recall  the  forming  of  classes  in  procession, — each 
man  with  his  torch, — marching  and  counter-marching, 
shouting  and  echoing,  crowding  and  jostling,  within 
and  without  that  old  iron  railing;  thronging  the  streets, 
bullying  policemen,  anathematizing  Columbians.  We 
owned  the  town  that  night. 

Speeches  by  the  Seniors  and  chosen  orators,  which 
seemed  to  us  undergraduates  brimful  of  eloquence,  were 
made  at  the  angle  where  the  flag-pole  has  so  long  stood. 
Never  can  we  forget  the  impassioned  eloquence  of  the 
poem  by  our  renowned  Edward  M.  Shepard,  then  chosen 
from  the  Freshman  class  as  already  a  marked  man. 
Raised  a  little  above  the  crowd,  backed  up  against  the 


\ 


College  Life — Change  from  Free  Academy    243 

old  flag-pole,  his  face  lighted  only  by  the  glare  of  a  hun- 
dred torches,  he  seemed  to  the  boys  about  as  eloquent 
and  brilliant  as  any  orator  who  ever  spoke.  I  have 
heard  him  a  score  of  times  since,  in  the  momentous 
public  gatherings  of  recent  years,  where  he  has  been 
potent  for  good  influence  with  his  choice  diction,  stain- 
less principles,  and  great  moral  force,  and  it  seems  to 
me  he  looked  then,  as  since,  the  embodiment  of  calm 
severe  dignity,  the  champion  of  justice  and  right. 

The  night  was  given  up  to  shouts  and  revel.  The 
"burial  of  the  ancient,"  a  delightfully  carried  out  mock 
burial  (in  another  corner  of  the  grounds)  of  the  now 
defunct  "Free  Academy,"  to  which  were  added  some 
dry-as-dust  books  we  all  voted  odious,  was  followed  by 
a  noisy  torchlight  procession  in  hollow  squares  up 
and  down  Fifth  Avenue.  I  think  we  extended  our 
tramp  to  the  gates  of  our  supposed  rival,  Columbia,  then 
at  Forty- ninth  Street  and  Madison  Avenue. 

But  it  may  well  be  remarked  that  the  boys  of  our 
College  were  never  given  to  rowdy  proceedings  such  as 
often  marked  the  university  sports  of  other  colleges. 
There  seems  to  the  writer  to  have  been  always  in  the 
minds  of  the  City  College  boys  a  sense  of  serious  work 
and  responsibility,  and  of  careful  conservation  of 
other  people's  welfare,  because  we  are  essentially 
children  of  the  people,  and  in  a  socialist  sense  a  pro- 
duct of  the  public  purse.  In  this  view  I  feel  a  touch 
of  pride,  as  if  the  fundamental  facts  of  social  order  were 
deeply  rooted  in  the  breast  of  every  well  disciplined 


244    College  Life — Change  from  Free  Academy 

scholar  graduated  from  that  great  institution,  the  public 
school. 

To  the  graduates  of  the  classes  of  that  day,  the  dis- 
tinguished and  venerated  figure  of  the  president,  Dr. 
Horace  Webster,  will  stand  out  as  long  as  memory  lasts. 
A  large,  classic-featured  gentleman,  whose  searching  eye 
and  mobile  lips  fixed  one's  attention,  taught  us  all  a  bet- 
ter way  to  do  even-thing  which  we  already  had  thought 
we  were  doing  well.  His  frequent  unexpected  advent 
in  the  class-room  was  always  pleasant  to  the  boys. 
Professor  Huntsman,  in  his  arid  way,  taught  us  philos- 
ophy, but  we  felt  he  was  ably  seconded  by  Dr.  Webster 
when  once  in  a  while  he  would  drop  in  and  help  eluci- 
date matters.  I  recall  a  day  when  the  discussion  of 
"responsibility"  was  to  the  fore.  "Pop"  Webster,  as 
we  irreverently  called  him,  said  to  the  classman  reciting, 
"If  a  bird  flies  over  your  head,  you  are  not  responsible, 
are  you?"      "  No  sir!  "But  if  a  bird  flies  over  your 

head  and  makes  a  nest  in  your  hair,  you  are  responsible 
are  you  not'"  This  was  one  of  the  self-evident  and 
clarifying  ways  by  which  he  often  helped  out. 

How  our  views  change  with  the  years,  and  how 
interesting  and  valuable  now  seems  the  dry  learning  of 
philosophy  and  metaphysics  and  political  economy! 

Dear  old  Professor  Barton,  who  taught  us  English 
by  the  homely  but  impressive  method  of  making  it 
pleasant,  who  can  forget  his  admonition  to  a  rough 
member  by  forcing  down  his  throat  the  definition  of 
Sir  Philip  Sidney  of  a  "gentleman,"  "high  thoughts 


o 
S     <« 

c     c 

i?    ° 

"■     p     in 

-    a 


K 


<U 


■z   a 

'        o 


College  Life — Change  from  Free  Academy    247 

seated  in  a  heart  of  courtesy!"  What  student  did  not 
know  that  the  dear  old  Professor  saved  some  of  the 
crumbs  of  his  frugal  luncheon  to  feed  two  little  mice 
who  always  came  out  of  their  hole  under  his  platform 
when  the  class  had  gone  ? 

Professors  now  gone  have  all  left  a  sweet  memory 
behind.  Professor  Docharty  lightened  his  dry  mathe- 
matical course  by  immensely  dryer  humor.  Professor 
Owen  was  most  serious  in  his  pride  of  the  Greek  he 
taught.  "Poluphloisboios,"  he  would  say,  "  the  loud 
resounding  waves,"  and  suiting  the  action  to  the  word 
the  reverberation  in  his  deep  mouth  would  almost  sound 
like  breakers  on  the  shore. 

Professor  Koerner,  who  looked  the  old  German 
artist  that  he  was,  was  so  full  of  the  defence  of  simplicity 
and  truthfulness  in  art  that  he  would  even  go  into  fits 
of  anger  after  a  Junior  exhibition,  when  the  speakers 
had  been  showered  with  flowers  packed  in  cord-bound 
bouquets,  and  tell  the  class  that  it  was  "zutch  a  pity 
to  dhrow  doze  dr-r-readful  bumshells." 

Then  we,  too,  had  Professor  Doremus,  the  incom- 
parable Doremus,  florid,  graphic,  entrancing.  His 
words  of  fire  stirred  and  impressed  us;  as  the  glow  of 
electric  sparks  he  delighted  to  send  in  showers,  or 
the  phosphorus  and  red  lights  he  could  display  as  no 
one  else.  Never  should  it  be  forgotten  that  he  was  the 
pioneer  in  making  the  dry  subject  of  chemistry  alluring 
by  the  brilliancy  of  his  experiment  and  demonstration; 
or  that  he  represented  a  power  in  the  social  and  public 


248     College  Life — Change  from  Free  Academy 

eye  in  the  city  that  was  a  large  factor  in  popularizing 
our  noble  institution.     No  one  was  ever  more  loyal. 

Frobisher  (no  one  called  him  "■  Professor"  Frobisher) 
left  a  strong  impression  on  the  boyish  mind — and  what 
more  can  be  asked  of  a  teacher?  He  was  so  serious, 
and  so  insistent  on  repetition  of  a  sentence,  until  one 
could  himself  see  that  he  spoke  better  with  ever}'  utter- 
ance. And  then,  what  a  picture  this  tall  serious  being 
left  on  the  mirror  of  one's  brain,  with  his  long  wind-mill 
arms  agoing;  but  so  patient,  as  if  all  the  future  life  of 
the  student  depended  on  his  instruction  in  elocution. 
And  then  our  dear  Professor  Tisdall,  who  seemed  to 
know  so  much  that  was  profound  and  beyond  our  ken 
of  Latin  and  Greek.  How  we  envied  him! — but  he 
made  us  love  the  subject-matter.      That  was  enough. 

Out  of  the  very  loins  of  our  own  College  came  one  of 
the  best  teachers  who  ever  won  the  esteem  of  his  pupils, 
Adolph  Werner.  His  life-long  service  to  the  intellect- 
ual growth  of  the  horde  of  city  youths  who  have  entered 
our  College  and  gone  out  into  commercial  life  ithe 
wvalth-producing  part  of  the  community)  cannot  be 
estimated  by  the  meagre  total  of  salary  paid  to  such 
valued  teachers. 

(  )f  all  the  fascinating  subjects,  though,  that  were 
laid  before  us.  none  captivated  as  did  Professor  Comp- 
ton's.  He  has  seen  the  coming  and  going  of  more 
classes  than  any  one  ever  in  the  faculty,  and  has  had 
the  affectionate  regard  of  more  thousands  of  students 
than  any  one,  perhaps,  in  any  college  in  this  great  city. 


I  l 

.-  1 

H  C3 

D  u 

1—1  o 

M  E 

o  ? 

7}  M 

H 


4) 


O 
a! 


■a 

o 


31 


College  Life — Change  from  Free  Academy    251 

His  was  a  delightful  subject,  physics  and  astronomy, 
music  and  the  stars.  With  him  we  ran  the  gamut, 
from  surveying  and  drawing  most  perfect  roads  upon 
the  hillside  (which  he  called  "  ramps  ") ,  to  an  estimate  of 
the  orbit  of  a  planet.  In  my  class  it  was  understood, 
and  told  with  awe,  that  in  the  previous  class  there  was 
a  man  named  Burchard  who  had  exactly  calculated  the 
return  date  of  a  comet;  such  were  the  accuracies 
of  mathematics  applied  in  our  class-room. 

In  a  room  sacred  to  history  and  occupied  by  bare 
benches  and  a  wonderf ul  saf e  full  of  valuable  coins  of 
every  age  sat  Professor  Anthon,  long  since  passed  away. 
So  brimful  of  historic  facts,  and  yet  so  lenient  for  our 
failures!  How  much  pain  we  must  have  given  him! 
How  sweet  now  those  hours  would  be  to  us,  and  what 
would  we  not  pay  in  coin  to  have  them  back! 

The  days  of  the  studies,  the  songs,  and  quartettes 
of  the  classes  now  forty  years  old  have  been  replaced 
by  years  of  success  in  every  field  of  human  work;  and 
we  look  on  the  growth  of  the  enormous  classes  and 
throngs  who  come  to  drink  at  the  worshipful  font  of 
knowledge  to-day,  with  eyes  accustomed  to  larger  hori- 
zons but  still  dazed  and  delighted  with  the  vision  of  our 
new  college  buildings,  grown  up  like  Aladdin's  palace  in 
a  year. 

In  our  day  such  things  could  not  have  been  even 
dreamed  of,  and  we  but  echo  the  philosophic  remark  of 
the  Chinese  sage— "We  can  imagine  a  limited  number 
of  things,  but  there  is  nothing  that  may  not  happen." 


The  Later  Seventies 

Lewis  Sayre  Burchard,  '77 

INKING  the  later  with  the  earlier  '70's,  like 
Bismarck's  cigars,  "chain-smoked,"  lit  each 
upon  the  remainder  fire  of  its  predecessor,  let  this 
writer  take  the  torch  from  the  man  ahead  by  say- 
ing that  his  very  first  hour  as  a  student  of  the  Intro- 
ductory class  was  passed  under  the  tutorship  of  the 
author  of  the  preceding  article.  I  remember  that 
hour  well.  It  passed  in  what  was  called  the  Intro- 
ductory Chapel,  then  new,  and  presided  over  at  matins 
by  Professor  Scott,  as  viceroy  or  proconsul.  After- 
wards christened  "Natural  History  Hall,"  it  came  to 
be  described  by  Noble,  of  '80,  as  containing  "a  menag- 
erie of  unearthly-looking  skeletons,  a  whole  cart  full 
of  peculiar  stones,  and  some  unpleasant  models  of 
people's  insides,  together  with  a  festoon  of  intestines 
employed  for  decorative  purposes."  "By  what  possible 
means,"  asks  Noble,  "can  it  be  assumed  that  this 
blood-curdling  precinct  was  ever  an  Introductory 
Chapel?" 

Yet    there    it    was    that    Dr.  —  then    a    slender, 

252 


z  .a 

o    Xi 


H 


O 

o 

Pi 


41     c-1 


2  * 


_) 


College  Life — The  Later  Seventies        255 

graceful  Mr.  —  Abbe  lifted  the  curtain  on  our  five- 
act,  five-year  Chinese  drama  with  an  hour  in  drawing. 
His  opening  statement,  that  his  personal,  practical 
instruction  in  sharpening  a  lead  pencil  was  at  our 
service  if  necessary,  mightily  impressed  me,  to  whom 
the  preparation  of  a  lead  pencil  was  always  a  strenuous 
whittling  solo  without  inches  of  pencil  ever  yielding 
a  satisfactory  point.  Here  at  last,  thought  I,  was  a 
place  where  teachers  appreciated  what  a  fellow  really 
wanted  to  acquire,  and  where  "Learning"  approached 
respectable  practicality. 

We  were  a  very  young  and  impressionable  lot,  and 
I  had  had  whatever  additional  impulse  to  suscepti- 
bility to  tradition  a  little  boy  might  get  from  having 
two  older  brothers  at  the  College  ahead  of  him.  I 
had  heard  that  in  "Pop"  Webster's  time  some  stu- 
dents, looming  in  an  Ossianic  mist  of  heroic  legend,  had 
conveyed  a  goat  into  chapel,  and  that  others,  moving 
on  a  lower  plane  of  laudable  endeavor,  had  put  assa- 
foetida  in  the  stove  of  the  Doctor's  classroom.  I  had 
heard  at  our  breakfast  table  some  one  read  in  the 
morning  paper  of  the  students  taking  the  horses  out  of 
Christine  Nilsson's  carriage  the  night  of  her  debut, 
and  drawing  her  around  to  Professor  Doremus's  villa 
on  Union  Place.  That  seemed  like  the  right  thing, 
and  suggested  caps  and  gowns,  Burschenkorps,  and 
the  Latin  Quarter.  The  stuccoed  Flemish  turrets  of 
Lexington  Avenue  had  also  a  certain  attractive  unique- 
ness, and  the  Avenue  front  looked  like  Eton;  but  in 


256        College  Life — The  Later  Seventies 

total  all  these  hardly  sufficed  to  make  a  satisfying 
atmosphere  of  tradition  and  background  of  pictur- 
esqueness. 

When  I  came  up,  a  mere  number,  to  take  my 
admission  exams  for  the  Introductory  class,  I  caught 
with  a  keen  anticipatory  delight  at  a  fine  antique  smell 
of  dead  animal  as  something  richly  promising  scientific 
mysteries;  but  whatever  glamor  of  tradition  my 
willing  imagination  fondly  attached  to  that  was  shortly 
stripped  away  when  Harry  Van  Kleeck  of  the  Seniors 
told  me  that  it  came  from  an  alligator  that  Professor 
Draper  was  stuffing,  and  I  realized  that  our  own  humble 
household  had  sent  ahead  of  me  the  very  cause  of  the 
biological  mustiness  that  had  entranced  the  olfactories 
of  hope.  Was  there  to  be  in  the  antique  line  "nothing 
new  under  the  sun"?  That  six-foot  alligator  corpse 
had  been  examined  by  me  to  satiety  in  our  own  back- 
yard. My  elder  brother's  taxidermical  enthusiasm, 
which  had  been  equal  to  gulls  and  prairie-chickens,  had 
quailed  before  the  job  of  stuffing  a  part  of  a  ton  of 
alligator,  and,  to  get  it  off  his  hands,  he  had  solemnly 
"  presented  "  it  to  the  Department  of  Natural  History. 
To  the  relief  <  >t  our  family  and  the  misery  of  the  College, 
Draper  had  accepted  it  with  a  collector's  ardor  and 
proceeded  to  prepare  it  for  his  cabinets.  I  believe 
it  decorates  "Natural  History  Hall"  to  this  day;  but 
it  represents  for  me  the  first  dispelled  illusion  of  my 
college  years. 

If  one  may  quote  his  old  Fraternity  song,  which  to 


A  Board  in-  the  Mathematics  Room. 
Where  sixty  generations  have  left  their  record. 


257 


College  Life — The  Later  Seventies        259 


-& 


this  day  serves  some  of  us  better  for  "  Marching  Through 
Georgia"  than  the  tune's  original  words, 

"  When  we  went  to  College,  we  were  all  on  study  bent; 

Hazing,  smoking,  et  id  am.,  were  far  from  our  intent; 

We'd  not  the  faintest  kind  of  thought  what  College  really  meant ;  " 

and  I'm  afraid  that,  if  all  the  truth  must  be  told,  our 
"college  days"  for  five  years  were,  in  a  cheerful, 
laborious  sort  of  way,  pretty  monotonous.  Four 
hours  of  recitation  a  day  for  five  days  a  week  allotted 
us  no  "study  hours"  in  College,  such  as  had  afforded 
the  bows  of  the  '6o's  some  sort  of  opportunity  for 
getting  acquainted  with  classmates,  getting  up  "Joke 
Clubs,"  and  concocting  other  schemes.  One  o'clock 
or  half -past  found  a  growing  youngster  in  the  condition 
of  a  large  spheroidal  appetite  surrounded  by  a  thin 
coating  of  boy,  which  outvoted  what  little  temptation 
there  was  to  linger,  even  if  Bonney  pater  had  allowed. 
So,  except  as  we  foregathered  in  the  halls  in  the  five 
minutes  between  recitations  on  our  way  from  room  to 
room,  or  in  the  streets  on  our  way  to  and  from  our 
homes,  or  at  occasional  tumultuous  class-meetings,  or 
in  the  literary  societies  Friday  nights,  or  in  the  chapter 
rooms  of  our  fraternities,  there  was  almost  no  oppor- 
tunity for  the  students  to  "get  together."  I  suppose 
that  is  why  we  to  this  day  cheer  and  sing  so  wretchedly. 
There  was  little  opportunity  for  the  development  of 
that  "human  interest"  that  makes  one's  four  years 
at  any  residential  college  so  formative  and  full  of  tra- 
dition, and  so  rich  in  reminiscence.     I  devoutly  hope 


260        College  Life — The  Later  Seventies 

the  boys  of  the  years  to  come  may  find  more  of  it  on 
St.  Nicholas  Heights. 

But,  as  the  child's  enjoyment  of  his  toys  is  largely 
subjective  and  quite  spontaneous  and  insuppressible, 
so  that  all  he  needs  is  a  soap-box  and  the  disc  wheels 
of  an  earlier  civilization  to  taste  the  joys  of  motoring, 
so  our  hungry  imaginations  roamed  seeking  what  thev 
might  devour.  We  must  have  been  a  comical  and 
inventive  lot  of  gossips.  The  fact  that  Professor 
Anthon  washed  his  hands  after  each  recitation,  added 
to  an  authentic  report  that  at  home  he  smoked  an 
enormous  meerschaum  pipe,  seems  in  reminiscent 
examination  to  be  all  the  ground  there  could  have  been 
for  my  being  told  that  he  had  adopted  ' '  some  kind  of 
an  oriental  religion."  One  professor  they  used  to  say 
was  the  son  of  a  king  and  received  a  monthly  subsidy 
as  the  result  of  some  mysterious  treat)"  renouncing  all 
pretensions  to  the  crown.  At  any  rate  he  drove  in  good 
form  a  high-stepping  pair  of  hackneys  to  a  high  cart, 
and  had  written  a  text-book  on  cavalry  that  in  some 
way  we  connected  with  West  Point;  and  some  of  us 
had  seen  an  aquarelle  of  him  in  a  dragoon's  cuirass, 
moustachioed  and  whiskered  a  la  Count  d'Orsay.  He 
told  me  of  leading  charges  with  ioof(  of  casualties 
and  of  taking  part  in  the  siege  of  Antweq)  (1830);  and 
whether  his  disabled  leg  was  crippled  or  "cork," 
and  how  it  happened,  were  subjects  of  respectful  but 
curious  discussion.  As  a  politely  respected  but  in- 
spiring   and    undownable    mystery,    that    leg    shared 


s 
o 
o 

Pi 


5    o 


College  Life — The  Later  Seventies      263 

honors  with  the  beloved  enigma  as  to  how  the  clashing 
Doremus  had  lost  his  arm.  Another  tradition  was 
that  a  venerable  professor  of  philosophy  habitually- 
lunched  upon  pea-soup  brought  to  College  in  a 
small  tin  pail,  and  that  a  famous  corpulent  straw- 
berry had  been  named  in  his  honor  "the  Hunts- 
man Seedling."  Tutor  Tisdall  wore  a  certain  aura  of 
renown  because  our  unwritten  chronicles  had  it  that 
he  could  play  several  games  of  chess  at  once  blind- 
fold, and  that  he  had  met  defeat  with  honor  in  the 
lists  of  Caissa  at  the  hands  of  the  invincible  Paul 
Morphy. 

Thus,  half  in  hunger  for  imagination's  food,  half 
in  college  patriotism,  we  cherished  the  veriest  tags  of 
interest  that  tended  to  prove  a  man  anything  other 
than  a  hearer  of  recitations,  and  welcomed  a  hint  that 
Barton,  who  looked  like  a  Hebrew  prophet  or  a  high 
Druid  in  a  parson's  coat,  would  tramp  the  countryside 
wTith  a  gun,  or  that  he  had  a  clandestine  interest  in  a 
certain  friendly  mouse  in  his  section-room  wainscot 
and  daily  fed  it  scraps  of  lunch.  Thus,  John  Jason 
Owen,  whose  books  had  been  read  at  Oxford,  was  a 
personage,  despite  the  fact  that  his  wife  fussed  in  upon 
him  at  recitation.  They  say  she  would  irrupt  for 
carfare — some  financial  accident  I  suppose — and 
wait  while  he  patiently  fished  out  the  required  six 
cents  and  called  her  "me  dear,"  or  "Medea,"  as 
George  Baker's  song  had  punned  it  to  round  out  the 
couple's  classical  relationship.      So,  too,  was  Docharty 


264       College  Life — The  Later  Seventies 

a  celebrity  in  our  eyes,  and  Draper,  Frobisher,  all 
those  who  had  "published." 

The  tradition  of  Compton's  many-sided  practical 
and  scholarly  ability  inspired  us  with  a  sort  of  reflected 
pride;  while  above  all  was  the  glorious  memory  that 
President  Webb,  as  the  newly  assigned  commander 
of  a  raw  brigade,  had,  without  losing  ground  or  for- 
mation, received  the  impact  of  the  greatest  charge  of 
the  Civil  War, — Pickett's  at  Gettysburg. 

Every  differentiation  from  our  public-school  stand- 
ards of  scene  or  person  served  to  stimulate  this  sense 
of  and  appetite  for  a  peculiar  or  "student "  atmosphere. 
Welcome,  therefore,  was  the  evolution  from  the  three 
peripatetic  or  visiting  teachers  of  our  Grammar  School — 
drawing-master  Miller,  with  his  neat  sheets  of  patterns; 
delightful  old  George  Moore  with  his  zoological  col- 
lections in  his  side  pockets;  and  the  burly,  bearded 
Hyatt,  calling  with  baskets  of  bottles  and  performing 
with  a  Bunsen  burner,  a  retort,  and  an  assortment 
of  glassware,  sundry  more  or  less  spectacular  muddle- 
ments,  some  of  which  "went  off"  delightsomely — to 
casual  glimpses  of  Koerner's  room  with  its  talented 
amateurs  sketching  Venuses  and  Caryatids,  of  Draper's 
skeletons,  or  of  the  amphitheatred  wonder  shop  of 
Doremus. 

What  picturesque  reminiscence  attends  that 
Herman  Joseph  Aloys  Koerner,  Professor  of  Draw- 
ing, Descriptive  Geometry,  and  ^Esthetics.  A  little 
figure,  bent,  in  a  foreign-looking  cloak  and  an  exotic 


The  Old  German-  Room. 
Professor  Werner  and  a  few  of  his  friends. 


265 


College  Life — The  Later  Seventies        267 

hat,  with  long  white  hair  and  beard,  the  hair  brushed 
straight  back  and  cut  off  square  at  the  seventh  cervical 
vertebra,  and  the  beard  surmounted  by  a  jolly  red  nose 
and  adorned  as  to  its  centre  with  a  well-marked 
Nicotian  halo,  he  seemed  like  a  Teutonized  combin- 
ation of  Clement  C.  Moore's  St.  Nicholas  and  Joe 
Jefferson's  Rip  Van  Winkle.  Yet  he,  too,  carried  the 
glamor  we  sought,  for  had  he  not  exchanged  the 
burscKs  schldger  for  the  revolutionist's  sword  with 
Carl  Schurz  in  the  '48  and,  like  him,  fled,  an  exile  for 
freedom,  to  America;  and  had  not  a  certain  ponderous, 
unreadable,  great  book  of  his  in  German,  on  sEsthetik, 
received  high  praise  from  President  Porter  of  Yale? 
Do  you  remember  his  disdain  of  English  as  "a  jargon,  " 
and  his  strings  of  blackboard  notes,  elaborately  sub- 
divided and  numbered  with  Roman  and  Arabic 
numerals  and  large  and  small  letters,  liberally  paren- 
thesized, and  abbreviated  on  the  principle  of  leaving 
out  the  vowels;  how  he  emphasized  the  importance 
of  shadows  by  a  droll  dramatic  rendering  of  the  old 
German  story  of  Pieter  Schlemihl  selling  his  shadow 
to  the  devil ;  how  he  told  of  creeping  by  the  Do- 
mestic building  at  14th  Street  and  Broadway  with 
its  cast-iron  statues,  praying  that  it  would  not  fall  on 
him,  it  was  so  "oogly"? 

I  recall  once,  when  I  was  mulling  along  on  a  hide- 
osity  a  deux  crayons  which  was  supposed  to  represent 
the  familiar  mask  of  Dante,  very  undecided  in  my  mind 
as  to  what  was  shadow  and  what  plain  dirt  on  the  nose 


268       College  Life — The  Later  Seventies 

of  the  original,  how  he  took  me  by  the  nose,  most 
comrade-like  and  genial,  and  said,  "Here,  you,  Boor- 
kart,  mek  dat  nose  black,  black,  blacker'n  Hell!  Yes! 
Hell,  Dante,  Inferno,  sichst  du?" 

How  I  wish  I  had  taken  the  right  kind  of  notes 
of  his  Senior  lectures  in  ".-Estetics,  or  the  Principles 
of  Biooty."     Memory  brings  me  these: 

"Here,  you,  doan'  spik!  Now!  Arabic  noomeral 
seex — The  biooty  (very  long  "u")  of  moation  (very  long 
"o")  in  annim'ls.    Underline!  Now,  in  a  verticcle  line, 

a,  b,  c,  small  lett'rs.  Then,  typiccle,  a,  the  flea;  b,  the 
frog;  c,  the  hare.  A,  the  flea  goes,  so-o  (gesture),  three 
times  so  much  perpend ickler  as  it  goes  furder.  B,  the 
frog,  so-o  (jumping),  simultaaneous;  and  c,  the  hare 
(a  sudden  pose  that  made  his  hair  stand  out  behind 
him  while  the  arm  shot  ahead),  horizont'l. 

"  \(  >w,  seven,  und  last, — Underline.  Mittic  (mythic) 
annim'ls.    Verticcle  a,  b,  c.     Typiccle.     A,  thedragoon; 

b,  the  griffin,  and  c,  the  Tevvle. "  Then  followed  elab- 
orate descriptions  of  the  zoological  combinations  which 
made  up  "a"  and  "b,"  wound  up  by  this:  "C,  der 
Tewle.  Has  body  and  het  like  a  man,  with  hoarns, 
so-o,  on  the  het;  one  foot  regguler  and  one  foot  cloaven; 
and  a  tail  mit  a  dart  on  the  end,  parentesis,  not  essen- 
tial, und,  note,  some  peeple  thinks  it's  a  god!  Yes!" 

But  this  runs  me  off  the  track.  As  the  sight  of 
Koerner's  rooms  showed  us  horizons  past  the  re- 
vealings  of  Miller,  so  did  even  the  College's  modest 
natural  history  collections  surpass  the  museums  of  old 


y. 


o 
u 

P- 


c  c 

v.  o  jo, 

—  \-  i. 

'  x  5 


o> 


-        X     _=     O 

<    z    c 

"     u     c 


=     I 


to 

c 


College  Life — The  Later  Seventies        271 

Mr.  Moore's  side  pockets,  and  so  we  were  impressed  by 
Dr.  Stratford's  fascinating  manikin  and  by  a  chance 
sight  of  Professor  Draper  sitting  before  one  of  his 
cabinets  seriously  dusting  with  a  bellows  the  skeleton 
of  a  bird.     That  seemed  such  a  knowing  way  to  dust. 

But  above  all  did  it  open  the  pores  of  our  minds 
to  seat  ourselves  under  the  tuition  of  Doremus,  and 
hear  ourselves  called  generally  ' '  young  gentlemen ' '  and 
one's  particular  self  "  Mister, "  and  plunge  into  stories  of 
great  things  really  done  and  doing  in  the  living  world 
outside,  and  how  the  reduction  of  atmospheric  pressure 
above  the  boiling  sugar  syrup  saved  the  sugar  refiners 
some  tremendous  sum  a  year — or  an  hour — in  coal. 
And  that  distinguished  gentleman,  who  never  deigned 
to  harry  us  with  small-boy  recitation  questions,  but 
left  us,  like  university  men,  if  you  please,  to  prepare 
an  ambitious  series  of  illustrated  notes,  had  been  known 
to  present  prizes,  out  of  his  own  pocket,  for  superior 
]  >erf ormances  in  that  line — once  even  the  unheard-of 
munificence  of  a  four-oared  shell.  A  classmate's 
brother,  Harry  Dwight,  as  an  Introductory,  had  won 
such  a  prize  and  so  the  Dwights  and  I  spoiled  several 
Saturdays  on  the  opening  chapters  of  an  ambitious 
series  of  notes,  with  water-color  illustrations  taken 
from  every  text-book  and  encyclopedia  we  could  lay 
our  hands  on,  with  gold-paint  for  the  brass-work,  which 
if  our  endurance  had  persisted,  might  have  won  for  the 
next  year's  Freshman  class  at  least  a  yacht. 

There  were  others  who  impressed  themselves  on 


272        College  Life — The  Later  Seventies 

memory.  Professor  Barton  was  a  courtly  old  gentle- 
man, finely  deserving  Dr.  Anderson's  noble  eulogy,  but 
a  delicious  inconsistency  of  his  is  perhaps  worth  a 
moment's  gossip.  In  his  little  book  and  in  his  class- 
room lecturelets,  he  loved  to  hold  forth  upon  the  fit- 
ness and  beaut}'  and  preferableness  of  Saxon  words,  if 
possible,  monosyllables.  Yet  his  speech  was  Latinistic, 
polysyllabic,  and  flowed  in  a  dignified,  cadenced, 
metrical  rhythm.     As  Dr.  Anderson  put  it, 

"Who  can  forget  the  method  of  his  speaking — 
The  shapely  words  of  a  well-ordered  mind'" 

It  "burbled"  in  dactyls  and  trochees.  Hearing  him, 
one  recalled  Coleridge's 

"From  long  to  long  in  solemn  sort 
Slow  Spondee  stalks;  strong  foot!  yet  ill  able 
Ever  to  come  up  with  Dactyl  trisyllable" 

or  noted  how 

"  One  syllable  long,  with  one  short  on  each  side, 
Amphibrachys  hastes  with  a  stately  stride." 

One  could  imagine  his  voicing  even  the  "high-bred 
racer"  of  "  Amphimacer"  but  never  the  jigging  frivolity 
of  an  anapest.  A  sesquipedalian  man,  like  Sidney 
Smith,  he  could  have  taken  comfort  unto  himself  in 
saying  "  Mesopotamia. "  And  so,  when  you  tilted  your 
chair,  he  begged  to  be  permitted  to  observe,  oh,  so 
gently  and  impersonally,  and  in  a  sentence  that  you 
could  have  scanned  on  the  blackboard,  that  your 
chair  had  been  manufactured  on  the  model  of  a  quad- 


Apparatus  Room  of  the  Physics  Department. 


273 


College  Life — The  Later  Seventies       275 

ruped — caesura — not  that  of  a  biped.  Every  one  of 
his  students  must  remember  his  illustration  of  the 
Chartist  banner  bearing  the  "good  old  Saxon  inscrip- 
tion" of  "A  Fair  Day's  Wage  for  a  Fair  Day's  Work, " 
and  how  if  they  had  "inscribed  upon  their  standard  its 
equivalent  in  the  Latinistic  vocabulary,  '  An  equitable 
diurnal  remuneration  for  an  equitable  diurnal  operation ' 
— caesura — not  a  man  would  have  joined  them. 

Yet  he  who  asked  for  short,  special,  Saxon  "picture" 
words  rather  than  Latin,  long,  general,  and  abstract 
words,  edited  my  chum  Clark's  description  of  Greece 
(or  France)  in  a  Junior  oration,  as  the  "light-bearer  to 
the  nations  of  the  west "  and  changed  it  to  the  "glorious 
benefactor"  of  the  same,  greatly  to  Clark's  bewilder- 
ment and  indignation. 

If,  under  stress  of  previous  circumstances,  you 
"  improvised  "  your  differentiation  of  a  pair  of  Graham's 
synon\~ms,  you  stood  an  equal  chance  of  hearing,  "I 
like  to  commend  a  praiseworthy  variation  from  a  too 
slavish  adherence  to  the  exact  verbiage  of  the  text. 
I  will  give  you  10.     You  may  take  your  seat" ;  or,  just 

as  blandly  and  kindly,  "Mr.  ,  one  should  bear  in 

mind  that  the  author  has  devoted  considerable  re- 
search to  his  presentation  of  the  subject  under  discus- 
sion and,  unless  one  can  feel  quite  confident  that  one 
can  improve  upon  the  language  of  our  author,  I  should 
not  recommend  one  to  depart  from  it.  I  will  give 
you  zero.  You  may  take  your  seat.  That  is  quite  all. " 
To  quote  Dr.  Anderson  again,  you  received 


276        College  Life — The  Later  Seventies 

"His  velvety  rebuke,  than  sharp  sword  keener, 
And  thrust  home  with  an  aim  that  never  swerved," 

much  as  did  the  victim  of  Rupert  the  Headsman  who 
never  knew  his  head  was  off  till  the  executioner  po- 
litely handed  him  a  pinch  of  snuff,  when  off  it  rolled  and 

"  the  victim  spoke  no  more." 

Awesome  he  looked,  in  that  straight-cut  clerical 
coat,  with  those  gaunt  limbs, — with  a  handkerchief 
spread  over  one  knee, —  those  "quaint  gnarled  hands," 
that  shaggy,  tousled  head,  that  bardic  beard,  that 
glittering  heavily-browed  eye,  now  stern,  now  most 
kindly,  but  "'take  him  for  all  in  all"  he  was  a  most 
lovable  gentleman,  and  we  loved  him  and  mourned 
him. 

But  the  limits  of  space  and  the  reader's  patience 
forbid  the  detail  that  memory  loves  to  gambol  in.  In 
hastiest  perspective  recall  Draper,  with  his  hand  be- 
hind his  ear,  bidding  you,  in  a  thin,  high,  plaintive 
voice,  that  belied  his  rotundity,  to  "classify"  the 
most  unheard  of  animals,  or  giving  you  a  pinch  of 
seidlitz  powder  in  a  watch  crystal,  which,  under  your 
dudheen  blow-pipe,  would  cut  up  the  most  ridiculous 
and  un-classifiable  shines  that  never  could  be  found  in 
that  funny  little  "Baedeker's  Guide  to  Magnesia,"  or 
"the  Shorter  Catechism  of  the  Known  and  Unknown 
Salts,  "  "the  Youthful  Alchemist's  Own  Handbook,  " 
— in  which  we  used  to  look  for  "symptoms. " 

One  ingenious  youth  devised  the  scheme  of  beating 


Prof.  Compton  in  his  Workshop. 


277 


College  Life — The  Later  Seventies         279 


'& 


the  book  by  tasting  his  powder,  and,  not  being  sure, 
kept  at  it  till  all  was  gone.  As  with  the  English  rail- 
way's porter's  little  dog  that  "had  'et  'is  tag,  and  no- 
body knew  where  'e  was  goin',"  investigation  was  at 
a  standstill,  and,  like  Oliver  Twist,  he  had  to  go  back 
to  Draper  for  "more — "  to  find  out  that  it  was  arsenic! 

Do  you  remember  the  suddenly  exploded  "Ouch!" 
and  smothered  cuss- words  of  your  neighbor  who,  ab- 
sorbed in  the  performances  of  his  parti-colored  "bead," 
had  forgotten  how  long  a  glass  tube  can  stay  hot? 
You  do?     So  do  I.     Let 's  pass  on. 

Then  there  was  Frobisher,  author  of  Voice  and 
Action,  descendant  of  polar  Sir  Martin,  trainer  of  the 
Demostheneses  of  the  '6o's,  black-bearded  and  hollow- 
cheeked  enough  to  pose  for  Captain  Kidd.  He  '  d  put 
you  through  five  minutes  of  exercise  with  a  rubber 
strap  to  get  your  blood  up  and  then  bid  you  "speak 
large  and  wide! — speak  to  that  window  up  there  at 
the  other  end  of  the  chapel."  When  you  spoke  your 
piece  on  the  stage  and  heard  your  own  voice  some- 
where in  the  remote  distance  sounding  something 
like  a  tiny  dog  in  distress  under  a  barrel,  he  sat  in  grim 
solitude  at  the  right  of  the  stage,  just  where  your 
wobbling  knees  showed  worst — in  profile,  because  they 
would  n't  stay  back, — and  put  down  marks  ag'in'  you. 

"Frobisher  (and  Faculty*)  to  right  of  you, 
Faculty  also  to  left  of  you. 
Faculty  (and  President)  behind  you, 
Volleved  and  thundered" 


280        College  Life — The  Later  Seventies 

with  their  horrible  little  books  and  pencils,  and  when 
you  ambled  in  a  blue  funk  down  those  steep  stairs  you 
indeed 

"  rode  back  again 
Not  the  six  hundred." 

It  was  a  blood-curdling  experience. 

And  there  was  Godwin,  bearded  like  one  of  the 
beloved  bushrangers  of  youthful  reading,  who  bade 
you  "promenade"  or  "take  two  pieces  of  chalk"  if 
you  said  "Draw  the  parallel  lines  AB  and  CD,"  in- 
stead of  "the  line  AB  and,  parallel  to  it,  the  line  CD. " 
With  him  you  really  learned  to  talk.  More  than  any 
man  we  knew,  he  taught  us  orderly,  inevitable  reasoning. 

Then  dear,  polite  old  "Barney"  Sheldon,  forever 
"shooting"  his  cuffs  as,  like  a  great  crane,  he  paced,  oh, 
so  quietly,  in  chapel,  always  on  downward  and  outward 
pointing  toes  and  with  straight  knees,  as  if  he  had 
passed  the  days  and  nights  of  an  orderly  youth  in 
alternately  teaching  sarabands  and  minuets  and  playing 
the  ghost  of  Hamlet's  father. 

And  Dr.  Eustace  Fisher,  warm  and  tender  friend 
of  so  many  of  us,  with  his  rearwardly-curving  legs, 
his  red  lips  and  pink  complexion,  his  far-legended 
smile: — how, 

"  as  a  bird  each  fond  endearment  tries 
To  tempt  her  new-fledged  offspring  to  the  skies," 

he  strove  to  lead  us  to  dote  appreciatingly  on  all  the 
tropes  in  the  samples  of  poetry  we  had  to  memorize. 


The  South  Chapel  Stairs. 


281 


College  Life — The  Later  Seventies       283 

We  doted,  hypocrites  avid  of  marks  that  we  were,  but, 
I  fear  me,  perfunctorily. 

Then  there  was  Fiston,  whom  you  could  always  get 
a  rise  out  of  by  saying  "A  bas  les  Prussiens!";  and 
Fabregou,  ever  so  courteous,  with  French  like  a  crystal 
bell,  so  contrasting  with  the  deep-chested  Pays-Bas 
French  of  his  chief  of  the  black-ribboned  monocle  and 
the  grimly-clipped  white  moustache — a  French  that 
always  conveyed  to  me  the  conviction  that  indeed 
they  must  have  sworn  terribly  in  Flanders.  It  seemed 
to  come 

"Acrross  the  sound  of  rrolling  drrums." 

Old  as  he  was, — and  he  had  led  his  dragoons  in 
1830, — he  had  a  magnificent  grip,  taught  me  a  jiu- 
jitsu  trick  in  '77,  and  once  rolled  out  in  that  jolly  old 
word-of -command  voice  of  his,  "Burrcharrd,  you're 
a  good  fellow:  but  your  French  is  dammnnable!"  rolling 
drum  accompaniment  again  wTith  a  bow  and  a  laugh 
and  a  polite  wave  of  the  hand  which  made  us  all  feel 
good  and  whose  bonhomie  warmed  our  hearts.  He  had 
the  air  of  the  old  world,  the  high  world.  One  missed 
the  gold  lace,  the  ribbon,  and  the  order. 

Another  vivid  memory  Kodak  is  that  of  Doremus 
in  his  photometric  room.  A  travelled  American 
woman,  who  knows  her  galleries,  said,  when  she  saw 
the  photograph  of  Boynton's  painting  of  Doremus  in 
his  cap  and  gown,  "He  looks  like  a  Doge."  Against 
the  soft,  rich,  dark  of  that  photometric  room,  where 
everything  was  painted  a  sooty,  velvet}",  lustreless  black, 


284       College  Life — The  Later  Seventies 

the  flame  of  his  single  "standard  candle"  threw  the 
noble  lines  and  contours  of  his  face  and  head  into  simple 
masses  of  black  and  white,  without  reflected  lights, 
— the  darkness  suppressing  the  modern  clothing;  it 
was  a  subject  to  invite  the  ghost  of  Rembrandt. 

One  other  painting  of  our  day  was  less  successful. 
The\'  tell  me  the  chapel  of  to-day  looks  "dingy  and 
classic"  as  ever;  but  '77  saw  Alma  Mater,  perhaps 
suddenly  becoming  conscious  of  her  age,  and  true  to 
her  sex,  blossom  out  in  gay  attire.  It  was  a  most 
sudden,  startling,  and  frivolous  change.  The  Micro- 
cosm recorded,  "Chapel  transformed  into  a  mixture  of 
rainbow  and  tea-store,  and  defiled  by  the  presence  of 
Introducts. "  The  Echo  called  it  a  "chameleonic 
outburst,"  and  printed  a  parody  on  Dryden's  Alex- 
ander's Feast  about  it  in  which  the  Glee  Club  at  the 
Alumni  Meeting  was  supposed  to  inflame  President 
Ketchum  of  the  Alumni  and  Chairman  Crawford  of  the 
Executive  Committee,  as  follows: 

"Now  strike  the  Steimvay  Grand  again; 
A  louder  yet  and  yet  a  louder  strain. 
Keep  his  lemonade  off  yonder. 
Rouse  him,  tenori,  like  a  peal  of  thunder! 
Hark!      Hark!  that  last  great  chord — 
Like  a  slip  signed  'McG. ' 
Or,  worse,  the  dreaded  '  P. ' — 
Has  brought  him  to  his  feet  and  leans  him  on  the  board. 

"  '  Revenge!  (keep  time!) '  the  leader  cries — 
See  the  painters  rise! 
See  the  scaffoldings  they  rear, 


The   Chapel,   Looking   East. 
Showing  the  Columbus  banners  along  the  walls,  and  the  empty  stage  from 
which  every  alumnus  has  held  forth   in   oratorical   turn. 


285 


College  Life — The  Later  Seventies        287 

Dangling  paint-pots  in  the  air; 
See  the  yellow  paint — and  drab — spare  our  eyes! 

Behold  a  ghastly  band, 

Each  a  brush  in  one  hand, 
And  a  contract  in  the  other  to  protect  'em. 

"Now,  Alexander,  Ketchum, 
And  to  their  just  doom  fetch  'em! 
Look  on  high! 
Oh,  my! 

"  Behold,  how  they  rub  their  red  brushes  on  the  beams — 

And  now  within  your  very  view 

They  paint  your  chapel  roof  a  sickly  blue! 
The  Alumni  rise  despite  the  paint-fiends'  screams: 
Alexander  seized  a  window-pole  with  zeal  to  destroy; 

Holmes  (sweet  Holmes!)  led  the  way, 

To  light  him  to  his  prey, 
And,  like  another  Helen,  fired  another  'Sealed 
Proposal  for  Painting,  Kalsomining,  and  Decorating 
The  Chapel  of  the  College  of  the  City  of  New  York.'  " 

And  so  we  blossomed  from  schoolboys  into,  at 
least,  potential  classmen  such  as  we  had  heard  of  and 
read  of,  susceptible  to  every  suggestion  that  promised 
to  realize  college  "life." 

So  some  of  us  (I  remember  Nelson  Henry  was  my 
cicerone  in  this)  carried  torches  from  the  Worth 
Monument  up  Fifth  Avenue  with  the  Columbia  boys 
in  a  "Burial  of  the  Ancient"  and  cheered  or  serenaded 
fondly-imagined  Rutgers  girls  who  were  supposed  to 
live  in  the  picturesque  round- towered  Rutgers  "  Female" 
College    buildings    opposite    the    Reservoir,    brought 


288        College  Life — The  Later  Seventies 

President  Barnard  out  on  the  porch  of  his  house  on 
Columbia's  49th  Street  campus,  and  attended  a  songful 
and  hilarious  Kneipfest.  Again  we  iourneyed  to 
Rutgers, 

"  On  the  banks  of  the  old  Raritan,  " 

Princeton,  and  five  or  six  other  colleges,  to  learn  how 
initiations  and  class-days  were  carried  on. 

A  vacant  block  in  Harlem — there  were  plenty  of 
them  then — on  what  is  now  called  Lenox  Avenue,  over- 
looked by  the  Convent  of  the  Sacred  Heart,  saw  under 
the  Class  of  '76  as  Seniors  the  beginnings  and,  indeed, 
all  of  our  football.  We  ranged  up  in  "twenties" 
then,  with  red  stockings,  but  innocent  of  the  guards 
and  pads  and  jackets  of  modern  armor.  The  game 
was  the  old  "open"  American  game.  You  might 
not  carry  the  ball  or  tackle  your  man.  There  were  no 
signals  nor  formations  nor  mass  plays  nor  flying 
wedges  nor  any  of  the  war  science  of  Deland  and 
Walter  Camp.  But  we  did  a  power  of  running,  and 
the  writer  carries  a  broken  nose  gained  from  a  spirited 
but  unplanned  collision  with  one  of  the  '76ers  of 
mighty  name — Wood  or  Riblett  or  ( )rmsby.  Judge 
Vernon  Davis,  '76,  was  a  captain  then,  and  Ed  Weed, 
'771  now  a  prosperous  automobiling  physician) ,  Adju- 
tant-General Nelson  Henry,  '77,  and  his  brother  How- 
ard, '77,  the  three  Kenyons,  '76,  '78,  '81,  Rushmore, 
'76  (auspicious  name — lately  candidate  for  the  Supreme 
bench),  Birkins,  .'77,  Putnam,  '78,  Shethar,  ' 80,  recall 


The  Class  of  "05. 

Grouped  about  the  Chapel  Stage,  with  the  star  flag,  old  clock,  and  electric 

class  numerals  in  background. 


2S9 


College  Life — The  Later  Seventies        291 

themselves  as  "scouring  the  plain"  or  clustering  in 
scarlet-legged  scrimmages  against  the  twenties  of  N.  Y. 
University,  Stevens,  Rutgers,  and  Columbia.  Going 
down  in  the  train,  after  a  game,  from  the  125th  Street 
station  to  426.  Street,  there  would  be  much  cheering, 
but  our  random,  ill-trained  "C.  C.  N.  Y."  never  pre- 
vailed against  the  disciplined  orthographic  cheer  of 
Columbia, — much  to  the  writer's  humiliation  and 
sorrow.  As  my  class  went  out  of  college  the  Rugby 
game  began  to  come  in,  with,  I  think,  a  son  of  Pro- 
fessor Fabregou  as  a  star  player.  In  November,  '77, 
our  Freshmen  held  the  Columbia  Freshmen  to  a  tie  score 
of  zero  in  a  Rugby  game  which  the  Herald  called  "the 
most  remarkable  contest  of  the  season."  But  we  had 
too  little  opportunity  for  practice  and  were  too  light 
and  lathy  ever  to  amount  to  much  on  the  then  un- 
gridironed  field. 

We  had  certain  "functions,"  though.  There  used 
to  be  a  "Junior  Exhibition"  every  year  in  Stein  way 
Hall,  with  eight  or  ten  proud  orators  who  took  them- 
selves very  seriously  and  carried  from  the  stage,  with 
many  bows,  a  series  of  bouquets  and  baskets  of  flowers, 
as  unconscious  of  what  now  seems  the  funniness  of  it 
as  so  many  "sweet  girl  graduates."  I  remember,  as 
a  boy  of  less  than  eleven,  the  Junior  Ex.  of  the  Class  of 
'69,  and  how  I  doted  upon  the  fiery  oratory  of  Julien, 
and  my  rapture  when  Shepard,  (to  me  then  already 
a  sort  of  historic  hero,)  throwing  back  that  dark,  ro- 
mantic lock  of  his,  quoted    with    immense    emphasis 


292        College  Life — The  Later  Seventies 

and  a  rearward  pointing  gesture,  Holmes's  lines  as 
"  the  words  of  our  old  college  song, 

'Gone  like  the  tenants  that  quit  without  warning, 
Down  the  back  entry  of  Time.'  ' 

No  one  but  the  famous  Shepard,  this  small  boy- 
thought,  would  have  dared  venture  such  a  humorous — 
why,  even  frivolous — quotation  on  such  a  dignified 
occasion  and  in  the  very  presence  of  the  majestic 
Dr.  Webster. 

At  these  Exhibitions,  the  Sophomores — hardened 
and  desperate  wits,  and  to  us  eminently  mirth- 
]  invoking — distributed  ' '  Mock  Programmes ' '  —  the 
product  of  laborious  committees  solemnly  elected  in 
class  meeting  after  much  campaigning  and  much 
Cushing's  Parliamentary  Law.  These  seemed  daring 
things,  (undoubtedly  the  product  of  some  sort  of 
subterranean  printing-office  visited  only  at  dead  of 
night.)  whose  venturesome  authors,  after  flinging  be- 
fore a  shocked  public  such  a  jcu  J' esprit  as  "Grabyour- 
cap"  for  the  eloquent  Gratacap,  '69,  simply  took  their 
futures  in  their  reckless  hands  and  lived,  even  at  home, 
furtive  existences,  ever  shadowed  by  visions  of  visits 
from  "the  authorities." 

Then  the  Clionian  and  Phrenocosmian  Societies — 
fondly  called  "Clionia"  and  "  Phrenocosmia "  — used 
to  have  gorgeous  "Anniversaries"  in  the  Academy  of 
Music  with  Eben's  band  and  more  floods  of  oratory 
and  more  flowers.     At  one  of  these  George  A.  Baker  of 


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College  Life — The  Later  Seventies        295 

'69  read  a  brilliant  poem  in  the  Saxe  manner,  entitled 
"  Fifth  Avenue, "  in  which  he  roasted  Columbia  and 
apostrophized  the  newly-named  College.  To  these 
Anniversaries,  the  Board  of  Trustees  used  to  vote  a 
modest  "subsidy"  of  $200,  the  last  being  received  by 
the  Clionian  Society  for  its  twenty-fifth  Anniversary, 
at  Chickering  Hall,  over  which  Loth,  of  '77,  presided. 
When  the  Phrenocosmian  came  to  its  twenty-fifth  Anni- 
versary in  the  spring  of  '77,  we,  to  our  high  indignation, 
were  denied  the  subsidy.  So  in  a  fine  burst  of  heroics 
we  determined  to  have  it  anyway,  and  without  any 
Chickering  Hall  tapering-off,  but  in  full  old-fashioned 
splendor  at  the  Academy.  And  we  were  greatly 
fortunate  in  one  thing, — that  the  "Graduate's  Poem" 
on  that  occasion  was  the  Rev.  Dr.  Joseph  Anderson's 
tribute  in  the  "In  Memoriam"  quatrain  to  Professor 
Barton,  who  had  died  shortly  before,  perhaps  the  high- 
water  mark  of  our  College's  poetical  output,  certainly 
of  its  occasional  poetry. 

In  those  days,  the  chair  always  placed  in  the  centre 
of  the  stage  for  the  presiding  officer  at  all  meetings  at 
the  Academy  of  Music  had  been  provided  by  some 
diabolically  ingenious  practical  joker  with  a  gilded 
head  of  Mephistopheles  in  the  centre  of  the  top  of 
its  frame,  carefully  located  so  as  to  pierce  with  a 
very  sharp  nose  the  exact  centre  of  the  back  of  Mr. 
President's  head  even-  time  he  sat  down  flushed  and 
absent-minded  with  the  fervor  of  his  eloquence  or  the 
intermittent  fever  and  ague  of  his  stage-fright.     Mr. 


296       College  Life — The  Later  Seventies 

President  would  then  have  to  put  his  head  on  one  side, 
checking  as  dignifiedly  as  possible  the  agonized  swift- 
ness of  his  movement,  and  let  the  gilded  mask  grin 
over  his  shoulder  at  the  audience,  and  so  involuntarily 
realize  the  mischievous  artist's  grim  and  curious  fancv. 
I  am  sure  every  one  who  ever  sat  in  that  chair,  from 
General  Webb  down  to  the  most  sadly  rattled  of  society- 
presidents,  (which  was  Ij  will  remember  the  torment 
of  that  nose  and  the  vicious  prod  it  gave  to  his  brief 
hour  of  presidential  dignity,  and  his  occipital  bone.  I 
used  to  notice  them  and  enjoy  their  surprise  when  they 
sat  down  and  their  feeble  pretence  of  choosing  that  pen- 
sively inclined  pose  not  too  suddenly  but  as  if  they 
happened  to  prefer  it. 

Then  they  used  to  have  "Kelly  Prize  Debates"  at 
the  Academy  with  more  music  and  flowers,  and  more 
proud  Freshman  marshals  fluttering  in  a  beribboned 
ecstasv  of  publicity  and  carrying  neatly-turned  ma- 
hogam  batons  adorned  with  long  lavender  streamers. 

In  '77,  the  Kelly  Prize  Debate  had  been  omitted  for 
some  years,  and  a  committee  of  us — a  joint  committee 
from  the  Clionian  and  Phrenocosmian  Societies — went 
before  the  Board  of  Trustees  to  have  it  revived.  Presi- 
dent William  Wood,  a  doughty  Scotch  veteran,  with 
a  fine  great  snowy  beard  and  a  bright  frosty  eye,  told 
us  we  might  have  the  debate  if  we  would  argue  the 
question  (as  he  put  it,)  "Whetherr  Frree  Tirade  or 
Prrotection  werre  prreferrable  forr  Amerrica.  "  How 
he  "burred"  those  r's  at  us!     Each  society  expressed 


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College  Life — The  Later  Seventies        299 

itself  as  ardently  willing  if  it  might  have  the  Free 
Trade  end  of  the  argument,  but  there  came  the  dead- 
lock, and  so  the  debate  again  fell  through. 

It  was  also  in  '77  and  at  my  own  suggestion  that, 
instead  of  two  prizes  for  debate,  half  of  the  Kelly 
Fund  was  devoted  to  a  prize  for  literary  criticism.  I 
remember  coining  the  phrase  "Kelly  Critique" — it 
sounded  so  alliterative.  The  proposition  was  brought 
up  in  Phrenocosmia,  suggested  to  Clionia,  and  the  two 
societies  successfully  petitioned  the  trustees  of  the 
Kelly  Fund  to  establish  two  prizes, — one  for  debate 
and  one  for  criticism.  Yancey  Cohen,  '78,  wTon  the  first 
"Critique"  Prize  on  "The  Bard"  of  Gray. 

The  Junior  Ex.  was  usually  signalized  by  the  Sopho- 
mores appearing  in  high  hats  for  the  first  time  and  by 
a  grand  Sophomore-Freshman  rush  in  the  streets,  but 
a  more  intimate  "function,"  perhaps  because  it  was 
more  at  home  among  ourselves,  and  came  around 
oftener,  was  the  old  Joint  Debate  in  the  Chapel. 

Like  the  May  Regatta,  there  seemed  to  be  some- 
thing spontaneous  and  indigenous  about  this.  It  was 
less  pretentious  than  the  performances  in  Steinway 
Hall  and  the  Academy.  There  was  no  music,  except 
such  as  happened  to  come  from  the  weird,  recurrently 
sporadic  "college  orchestras,"  (Oscar  Weber,  of  '80, 
had  one  of  thirty  pieces.)  or  an  occasional  moribund 
and  anaemic  glee  club  that  would  solemnly  file  up  on  the 
high  stage,  swallow,  get  ready  for  the  plunge,  and  at- 
tempt to  rollick  correctly  and  with  careful  part-singing 


300        College  Life — The  Later  Seventies 

through  "The  Mermaid,"  or  "Rolling  down  to  the 
Bowling  Green,"  or  "The  Flowing  Bowl,"  in  order  to 
give  fond  female  relatives  and  visitors  an  idea  as  to 
what  devils  we  were,  or  again  would  essay  the  classical 
and  bumble  through  "The  Artillerist's  Oath"  or  "The 
Knight's  Farewell,"  and  then  as  solemnly  file  down 
again.  There  were  no  beribboned  ushers  and  no 
family  flowers,  and  the  speakers  were  not  so  apt  to  be 
scared  to  death. 

After  Hanford  Crawford  had  proved  to  the  satis- 
faction of  the  judges  in  spite  of  desperate  opposition 
that  Thackeray  was  a  better  or  bigger  or  greater 
satirist  or  novelist  than  Dickens,  and  after  Paul 
K mtel  had  nearly  stood  your  hair  on  end  with  his 
thrilling  declamation  of  Poe's  "Telltale  Heart," 
or  made  you  raise  the  dust  on  the  Gothic  rafters 
over  his  solos,  and  the  judges  had  unburdened  them- 
selves of  their  decision,  and  we  had  cheered  our 
way  down-stairs,  then  would  form  the  usual  seren- 
ading army.  With  'Gene  Oudin,  the  bright  particular 
star  of  all  our  singers,  to  lead  and  to  take  the  mel- 
lowest of  fancy  top-notes  in 

''Then  come,  love,  come,  and  do  not  fear; 
My  bark  lies  on  the  other  shore; 
And  all  I  ask  is  Sally"  [top-note]  "dear, 

And  then  I  'm  off"  [with  a  turn  by  the  top-note  man] 
"to  Baltimore," 

and  with  Huber's  eccentric  tenor,  remarkable  for  being 
sung  with  his  mouth  nearly  shut,  because  he  "felt  so, " 


College  Life — The  Later  Seventies       301 

Howard  Henry's  well-trained  baritone,  and  Krotel's 
ringing,  beautiful, 

"boisterous,  midnight,  festive  clarion," 

we  felt  quite  proud  of  the  noise  we  could  make.  Start- 
ing with  General  Webb,  next  door  to  the  College,  we  'd 
"roll  along"  Lexington  Avenue  and  down  a  side 
street  to  Professor  Docharty's,  but  always  wound  up 
for  a  climax  on  Doremus's  lawn.  For  were  there  not 
ever  the  memories  of  the  horseless  carriage,  and  stories 
that  amazed  students  had  been  taken  in  by  the  genial 
Doctor  to  see  real  "wine"  opened,  to  join  in  toasts 
to  his  "Queen  of  Women, "  perhaps  even  to  see  Booth, 
or  Ole  Bull,  or  the  radiant  Christine  Nilsson?  Had 
not  the  Philharmonic  assembled  on  this  very  lawn 
to  serenade  its  President  on  his  return  from  Europe? 
Here  were  grass  and  trees  and  a  fountain  and  the  open 
air,  and  we  were  wearing  the  mantle  of  the  mightier 
men  of  the  '6o's,  who  had  brought  out  the  great  Colle- 
gian, packed  applauding  Academies,  serenaded  a  prima 
donna,  borne  torches  to  the  burial  of  the  Free  Aca- 
demy, and  shot  up  into  the  night  air  their  songs 
and  cheers  in  welcome  of  the  new  College.  From 
our  hearts  came  our  cheers  when  that  gallantly  up- 
flung  hand  waved  us  its  greeting.  Then  tradition 
hung  heavy  in  the  air  above  us,  and  the  quest  of 
a  student  atmosphere  found  its  own. 


The  Eighties 

Lewis  Freeman  Mott,  '83 

'"THE  recollections  of  a  student  of  the  early  '8o's 
begin  with  the  numbered  green  card  and  the 
three  days'  examination  for  admission,  more  terri- 
ble to  the  schoolboy  than  the  three  days'  fight 
with  the  dragon  sustained  by  Spenser's  Red  Cross 
Knight.  A  week  or  two  later  came  the  portentous  list 
published  by  the  Herald,  where,  in  most  cases  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life,  his  name  appeared  actually  printed 
in  a  daily  newspaper  for  all  New  York  to  read.  After 
a  summer's  mitigation  of  this  triumph,  he  returned  to 
the  field  of  action,  submissively  joined  the  section  to 
which  he  had  been  assigned,  learned  his  programme  and 
his  way  around  the  buildings,  and  entered  upon  his 
five  years'  climb  toward  the  bachelor's  degree. 

But  recitations  and  lectures  are  not  the  whole  of 
college  life.  More  memorable,  if  not  more  important, 
is  the  social  element,  the  contact  of  young  minds,  the 
joyous  ebullition  of  youthful  spirits.  One  of  the  first 
student  associations  formed  in  my  own  class  was  the 

Diokonian  Society,  an  organization  of  high  seriousness, 

502 


College  Life — The  Eighties  3°3 

if  one  may  judge  from  the  preamble  to  its  constitution. 
This  passage  is,  indeed,  worth  transcribing:  "We,  the 
undersigned,  do  declare  ourselves  an  association  for 
mutual  improvement  and  enlarging  our  fund  of  general 
intelligence,  in  the  pursuit  of  which  objects,  we  desire 
to  maintain  perfect  harmony  in  all  our  intercourse,  to 
seek  for  truth  in  all  our  exercises,  and  have  adopted 
for  our  government  the  following  Constitution  and 
By-laws."  But  seeking  truth  was  not  our  only 
recreation.  We  also  had  a  football  club,  which  played 
enough  successful  games  to  puff  us  up  with  pride.  The 
physical,  alas!  seems  to  have  been  more  enduring  than 
the  spiritual,  for  at  the  end  of  the  term  the  Diokonian 
Society  peacefully  died,  while  the  football  club  con- 
tinued a  vigorous  and  tumultuous  existence  throughout 
a  span  of  three  years.  We  used  at  first  to  play  in  a 
vacant  lot  at  130th  Street  and  Sixth  Avenue,  but 
later  received  permission  to  hold  our  games  on  one  of 
the  greens  in  Central  Park. 

The  minutes  of  this  football  club  contain  some 
items  of  interest,  particularly  on  the  financial  side, 
for  Mammon  does  not  seem  to  have  smiled  upon  us. 
On  account  of  the  cost,  there  could  be  no  cut  in  the 
Microcosm,  and  it  was  even  necessary  to  levy  an 
assessment  in  order  to  raise  the  three  dollars  required 
to  pay  for  the  indispensable  insertion  of  the  names  of 
the  officers.  One  treasurer's  report  showed  the  club 
to  be  thirty-five  cents  in  debt.  A  little  later  a  com- 
mittee on  procuring    for    the  team  purple  caps  with 


3°4 


College  Life — The  Eighties 


gold  bands  and  tassels  reported  that  these  gorgeous 
adornments  were  too  expensive.  On  another  occasion 
there  was  a  prolonged  discussion  of  a  resolution 
authorizing  the  treasurer  to  levy  twenty-five  cents  on 
each  member  for  the  purpose  of  purchasing  a  new 
football,  the  outcome  of  it  all  being  that  a  committee 
of  three  was  appointed  to  have  the  old  football  repaired. 
Obviously  our  happiness  was  not  based  on  riches. 
One  of  the  duties  of  the  recording  secretary  appears 
to  have  been  to  write  in  the  minute  book  at  the  close  of 
each  session  a  glowing  panegyric  of  the  club  with  a 
lofty  record  of  its  glorious  victories,  a  task  which  often 
called  for  the  exercise  of  considerable  imagination. 
We  stood  on  our  dignity,  too,  for  as  Sophomores  we 
thought  it  beneath  us  to  challenge  the  Freshmen,  and 
decided  to  wait  for  them  to  challenge  us.  That  our 
meetings  were  not  always  models  of  parliamentary 
procedure  is  proved  by  such  an  entry  as  the  following: 
"At  this  point  Mr.  P.  (who,  by  the  way,  was  presiding) 
had  an  umbrella  fight  with  Mr.  M.,  in  which  Mr.  M. 
was  badly  wounded  and  fell  heavily  against  a  bench 
almost  breaking  it  to  pieces  by  the  shock. " 

I  fear  that  our  class  meetings  were  often  quite  as 
disorderly:  certainly  they  were  almost  always  up- 
roarious. Even  in  the  literary  societies  there  were 
evenings  which  would  make  the  most  excitable  Euro- 
pean parliaments  seem  tranquil;  the  dignified  president 
imposing  right  and  left  upon  the  obstreperous  fines 
of  ten  and  even  of  twentv-five  cents,  all  of  which  were, 


One  of  the  Small  Rooms  off  the  Chapel. 
Where  older  generations  studied,  others  violated  the  laws,  and  more 
recent    classes  hung  their  hats — now  left  to  the  dignified  idleness  of  age. 


305 


College  Life — The  Eighties  3°7 

as  a  matter  of  course,  at  the  close  of  the  evening 
excused  by  unanimous  vote.  Perhaps,  on  the  whole, 
our  most  violent  breach  of  the  peace  consisted  of  rushes 
between  Sophomores  and  Freshmen,  both  in  the  lower 
hall  of  the  College  at  recess  and  in  the  streets  after 
every  public  exercise,  these  latter  encounters  being 
accompanied  by  vociferous  class  cheers  and  followed 
by  parades  of  hoarsely  singing  hordes  up  Fifth  Avenue 
and  Broadway.  After  an  exceptionally  scandalous 
performance  of  this  sort,  the  perpetrators  would  be 
lined  up  in  the  chapel,  while  General  Webb  brandished 
the  sword  of  Gettysburg  over  their  heads. 

The  chapel  was  more  of  a  centre  in  the  '8o's  than, 
owing  to  practical  obstacles,  it  has  lately  been.  The 
whole  College  assembled  there  every  morning  to  listen 
to  the  reading  of  the  Bible.  Among  the  mischievous 
it  was  a  favorite  pastime  of  an  afternoon  to  put  back 
the  book-mark,  so  that  "  Prexie  "  three  or  four  times  in 
succession  would  with  fine  unconsciousness  exclaim  in 
his  sonorous  voice;  "Moab  is  my  washpot;  over  Edom 
will  I  cast  out  my  shoe":  till  the  charm  would  be 
broken  by  Professor  Roemer  who,  on  mounting  the 
rostrum,  would  read  something — we  imagined  from 
Proverbs — in  his  inimitably  unintelligible  way,  con- 
cluding with  that  majestic  slam  of  the  good  book  and 
removal  of  the  reading-desk,  which  marked  the  transi- 
tion to  the  equally  unintelligible  announcement  of  the 
student  orator  and  his  subject.  For  Grattan,  Pitt, 
Webster,  and  Spartacus  still  thundered  from  the  stage, 


3o8 


College  Life — The  Eighties 


while  Seniors  and  Juniors  expounded  even*  human 
topic  outside  of  "religion,  politics,  and  the  government 
of  the  College."  What  nobility  of  utterance,  coldly 
marked  by  an  unappreciative  Faculty!  "Awed  by  the 
immensity  of  the  infinite";  "It  is  more  than  patriotism, 
it  is  philanthropic  cosmopolitanism";  such  phrases 
memory  is  loath  to  relinquish. 

We  were  also  rather  fond  of  public  speech-making  in 
those  days.  In  addition  to  the  Joint  Debates  in  the 
chapel,  the  Prize  Speaking  either  in  Chickering  Hall 
or  Booth's  Theatre,  and  the  Commencement  at  the 
Academy  of  Music,  there  was  the  Junior  Exhibition  at 
Steinway  Hall  with  its  ten  orations  varied  by  inter- 
spersed selections  from  the  College  Orchestra  and 
enlivened  with  the  Sophomoric  Mock  Programme, 
"  Manhattan  Gas  Works,  Grand  Annual  Let  Off.  "  The 
last  of  these  exhibitions  was  held  in  '79,  the  ensuing 
disorders  in  the  street  having  landed  several  of  the 
offenders  in  the  lock-up.  But  the  oratorical  impulse 
was  too  strong  for  suppression.  The  next  year 
Phrenocosmia  had  a  surplus  on  hand  and,  in  order  to 
spend  it,  the  society  celebrated  its  twenty-eighth 
anniversary  at  Chickering  Hall  with  speeches,  one  by 
a  graduate  and  nine  by  students:  "The  Scholar's  True 
Position,"  "The  Greatness  of  Macaulay, "  "True 
Charity,"  etc.  In  this  same  year,  1880,  Clionia  de- 
feated the  Euclean  Society  of  the  New  York  University 
in  a  debate  held  in  the  college  chapel  on  the  subject, 
"  Resolved  that  the  English  system  of   government  is 


College  Life — The  Eighties  3°9 

more  favorable  to  the  production  of  great  statesmen 
than  that  of  the  United  States. " 

In  all  these  activities  of  student  life  we  were  our  own 
masters,  wholly  free  from  Faculty  supervision  and 
neither  asking  nor  receiving  outside  assistance  of  any 
sort.  Our  elections,  too,  not  only  of  class  and  society 
officers,  but  even  of  contestants  at  Prize  Speaking  and 
for  the  French  translation  prize,  were  altogether  in  our 
own  hands.  Objectionable  features,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, were  not  absent.  Our  bargains  and  deals 
wrould  hardly  have  discredited  the  most  expert  practical 
politician,  and  doubtless  many  a  political  leader  gained 
his  earliest  training  in  these  contests.  Only  once,  in 
my  recollection,  did  President  Webb  interfere  in  a 
student  vote.  As  the  attendance  at  the  weekly 
meetings  of  Phrenocosmia  had  become  lamentably 
small,  a  group  of  enterprising  members  sought  to  arouse 
fresh  interest  in  the  proceedings  by  introducing  an 
amendment  to  the  constitution  abolishing  the  reading 
of  the  Bible.  For  three  weeks  debate  on  this  live 
question  continued,  earnest,  vigorous,  even  violent, 
before  a  crowded  house;  until  finally  the  Office  got  wind 
of  what  was  going  on,  the  wicked  were  obliged  to 
cease  from  troubling,  and  humdrum  resumed  its  sway. 

There  was,  however,  one  field  in  which  the  authori- 
ties appeared  to  us  egregious  tyrants,  the  field  of 
journalism.  In  the  fall  of  '78  the  "  Echo  "  gave  its  last 
feeble  flutter  and  died.  A  little  over  a  year  later  the 
"  Mercury  "  was  started  by  a  group  of  Freshmen.    In  its 


310  College  Life — The  Eighties 

first  issue  there  was  an  editorial  on  the  decay  of  oratory 
in  the  College.  "Fault  of  the  Faculty  "  from  mere  Fresh- 
men was  more  than  those  grave  and  reverend  signiors 
could  bear.  The  managing  editor  was  suspended  and 
the  others  dosed  with  astern  official  Philippic.  Mean- 
while the  newspapers  had  taken  up  our  cause  and  "  Em- 
peror Alexander"  was  castigated  by  the  press,  while  our 
leader  was  held  up  as  a  hero  and  a  martyr  to  liberty. 
When  things  simmered  down,  as  they  soon  did,  the 
"Mercury"  quietly  submitted  to  the  rules,  and  in  later 
years  was  even  taken  into  high  favor,  receiving  officially 
inspired  articles  and  publishing  a  lengthy  philologi- 
cal disquisition  by  the  distinguished  Vice-President. 
Equally  tractable  were  the  "Mercury's"  four  or  five 
short-lived  competitors.  The  one  rebel  was  the  "Free 
Press,"  published  anonymously  and  sold  outside  the 
gates  by  messenger-boys,  a  periodical  the  chief  aim 
of  which  was  to  print,  much  to  our  naughty  delight, 
disrespectful  squibs  about  the  President  and  Faculty. 
The  annual  "Microcosm,"  issued  by  the  secret  frater- 
nities, was  then  much  less  pretentious  in  form  than  its 
present  representative.  It  consisted  chiefly  of  lists  of 
societies,  together  with  their  members  and  officers.  It 
was,  I  suppose,  an  open  secret  that  perhaps  a  third  of 
these  organizations  never  existed  except  in  these  pages, 
but  such  spurious  clubs  gave  opportunities  for  students 
to  see  their  names  in  print  with  official  titles  attached. 
At  one  time,  for  example,  there  was  a  Spanish  Society 
with  five  members  and  six  officers,  so  that  one  member 


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College  Life — The  Eighties  3*3 

had  always  to  serve  in  two  capacities.  On  the  other 
hand  there  was  a  society,  The  Owl  and  Scroll,  which 
never  disclosed  even  the  real  names  of  its  membership. 
Its  motto,  Pcrfectum  Silcntium,  was  strictly  enforced, 
and  mystification,  the  very  breath  of  its  being,  was  a 
feature  of  all  its  proceedings.  The  brethren  were 
designated  by  Greek  names — ^schylus,  Sophocles, 
Pericles,  Thucydides — with  an  exponent  added  to 
denote  the  class.  All  the  notices  on  its  bulletin  board 
were  in  cypher,  which  only  the  initiated  could  compre- 
hend. At  this  distance  of  time,  when  ^Eschylus  has 
forgotten  who  Sophocles  wras,  and  probably  whether 
he  himself  was  yEschylus  or  Sophocles,  it  will  perhaps 
be  no  indiscretion  to  admit  that,  judging  from  the  zest 
of  the  performance  and  the  absence  of  an}-  other 
noteworthy  achievements,  the  sole  object  of  this 
mysterious  fraternity  appears  to  have  been  the  initia- 
tion of  new  members,  a  function  which  invariably 
gave  more  pleasure  to  the  initiators  than  to  the  initiates. 
The  ritual  of  these  dark  and  momentous  ceremonies 
leads  memory  to  another  feature  of  student  life  in  those 
older  days,  which  is  now,  I  believe,  entirely  extinct. 
I  recall  a  little  white  marble  tombstone  which  stood 
for  years  in  one  of  the  chapel  hat-rooms,  removed 
thither  from  a  corner  of  the  campus,  it  was  said,  on 
command  of  a  certain  unfeeling  Trustee.  It  had  been 
purchased  by  some  class — I  think  '81 — to  mark  the 
resting  place  of  the  ashes  of  a  detested  text-book. 
My  own  class  performed  a  similar  rite  one  evening  at 


3H  College  Life — The  Eighties 

the  close  of  the  Sophomore  year,  the  "Cremation  of 
'Analytics'  "  in  what  we  called  the  Campulum.  The 
yard  between  the  buildings  was  adorned  with  strings 
of  Chinese  lanterns.  A  procession  of  black-gowned 
students,  carrying  torches  borrowed  for  the  occasion 
from  a  generous  political  club,  marched  around  the 
buildings  chanting  a  mournful  dirge,  and  halted  under 
the  lanterns  to  listen  to  the  funeral  orations.  The 
climax  of  the  ceremony  was  the  burning  of  a  copy  of 
the  obnoxious  mathematical  work  by  the  high-priest, 
whose  head  was  surmounted  by  a  gigantic  fool's  cap. 
The  ashes  were  deposited  in  an  urn  which  stood  for 
half  a  generation  among  the  bushes  at  the  corner  of 
Lexington  Avenue  and  23d  Street.  At  the  close  of  the 
ceremonial,  solemnity  vanished  and,  bursting  out  into  a 
jubilant  paean,  the  noisy  procession  proceeded  up 
Broadway  to  an  obscure  oyster-house  for  refreshment. 
Such  burials  were  at  that  time  a  feature  common  to 
almost  all  colleges;  so,  in  the  realm  of  athletics,  were 
contests  in  football  and  baseball,  and  track-games  out 
of  doors,  such  as  we  used  to  hold  every  spring  and  fall 
on  the  grounds  of  the  Manhattan  Athletic  Club  at 
50th  Street  and  Eighth  Avenue;  but  our  College  had 
one  function  which,  so  far  as  I  know,  was  peculiar  to 
ourselves.  The  May  Week  Vacation,  established  when 
all  New  York  moved  on  the  1st  of  May,  was  marked  by 
the  Regatta.  At  a  mass  meeting  of  the  entire  College, 
held  in  the  chapel  a  fortnight  or  so  before,  were  elected 
a  Commodore,  always  a  professor  or  tutor,  and  a  Vice- 


College  Life — The  Eighties  3r5 

Commodore,  always  a  Senior.  These  two  fixed  the  day 
and  the  destination,  usually  Baretta's  Point.  At  the 
appointed  time,  swarms  of  students  and  many  instruc- 
tors, with  lunch  baskets  and  athletic  paraphernalia, 
congregated  on  the  shores  of  the  Harlem  River,  hired 
boats  for  the  day,  and  then  rowed  valiantly  to  the  spot 
assigned  for  the  picnic.  Sports  and  good-fellowship 
filled  the  day:  but  woe  to  the  venturesome  tutor  who 
entered  a  football  game  with  the  boys,  for  in  such  a 
case  victory  was  not  though  of;  the  game  consisted  in 
getting  the  ball  into  that  tutor's  hands  and  then  in 
the  union  of  both  sides  to  down  him.  At  length  the 
Sound  steamers  passed,  and  evening  saw  the  tired 
oarsmen  creeping  slowly  back  to  the  Harlem  boat- 
houses.  It  was  a  good  old  custom,  and  we  who  en- 
joyed such  outings  cannot  but  regret  its  disappearance. 
But  the  garrulity  of  reminiscence  meanders  like  the 
ceaseless  brook,  and  yet  can  never  reflect  even  an  ap- 
proximately complete  picture  of  the  past.  One  word 
must  be  said,  however,  about  the  Faculty.  To  one  looking 
back  twenty-five  years,  it  seems  as  though  the  average 
professor  of  that  time  had  a  greater  number  of  strongly 
marked  individual  peculiarities  than  the  professor  of 
the  present.  Every  one  who  attended  College  in  the 
early  '8o's  will,  for  example,  remember  the  stentorian 
invitation  to  the  sinner  to  write  and,  in  another  room, 
the  frequently  reiterated  command  to  "cease  all 
folly,"  together  with  the  constantly  recurring  entry 
in  the  section-book  of  "Continued  childish  frivolity," 


i6 


College  Life — The  Eighties 


while  disturbers  of  the  peace  were  obliged  to  occupy 
the  bench  which  backed  against  the  heating  apparatus. 
Moreover,  who  can  forget  those  easily  successful  efforts 
to  "get  the  old  man  on  a  string"?  The  topic  was 
Chinese  literature,  perhaps;  an}-  subject  was  of  absorb- 
ing interest,  provided  that  it  could  be  made  to  last 
long  enough.  Then,  too,  one  calls  to  mind  the  de- 
sperate and  almost  invariably  futile  efforts  to  keep  the 
discourse  going,  so  as  to  shut  off  those  last  fifteen 
minutes  of  remorseless  questioning.  Trivial  as  the 
incident  is,  I  remember  one  of  our  oldest  professors  of 
that  time,  on  a  morning  when  the  rain  was  pouring 
in  torrents — such  a  day  as  our  newspapers  now  gener- 
ally announce  as  partly  cloudy  with  variable  winds — 
coming  up  to  me  as  I  stood  by  the  window  and  saying, 
"This  is  a  fine  day."  Then,  after  walking  the  whole 
length  of  the  hall  and  back,  he  added  with  a  chuckle, 
"For  the  ducks." 

Some  of  these  peculiarities  encouraged  disrespectful 
and  occasionally  riotous  behavior  on  the  part  of  the 
students.  In  one  room,  it  may  be  recorded,  there  was 
a  conspiracy  among  four  Seniors  to  get  each  in  turn 
sent  out  for  disorder,  a  conspiracy  that  was  eminently 
successful  in  its  outcome.  In  another,  tradition 
maintains  that,  of  a  class  of  only  three,  two  were  sent 
to  the  office  for  impertinence,  while  the  third  and  only 
remaining  one  was  demerited  for  "interrupting  the 
recitation."  How  the  Sub-freshmen  looked  with 
respect  almost  amounting  to  awe  upon  the  Sophomore 


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College  Life — The  Eighties  319 

class  that  piled  all  the  benches  against  the  door  so  that 
the  professor,  who  was  in  the  hall,  could  not  enter! 
How  they  hoped  some  day  to  emulate  the  great 
achievement!  The  boys  were  suspended,  it  is  true, 
but  that  was  a  cheap  penalty  to  pay  for  so  heroic  a 
reputation. 

Of  course,  such  occurrences  were  exceptional.  Disci- 
pline was  generally  well  maintained  and,  although  one 
member  of  the  Faculty  was  reputed  to  be  "mean 
enough  to  die  in  vacation,"  we  usually  liked  our 
teachers  and  felt  for  them  a  high  regard.  The  frugal 
lunches  at  Chelborg's  Bakery,  where  we  often  sat  with 
Compton,  Werner,  and  Sim,  were  to  us  feasts  of  the 
gods. 

Among  the  most  interesting  characters  of  those  days 
was  certainly  the  Registrar  and  Deputy  Librarian, 
Cana,  with  his  immortal  vocabulary  of  almost  prophetic 
imprecation.  One  of  the  amusements  of  a  dull  after- 
noon was  to  enter  the  library  and  innocently  address 
the  old  man  as  "Professor."  The  result  was  instan- 
taneous and  delightfully  violent.  The  holder  of  a 
professorship  was  obviously  no  object  of  reverence  to 
Cana,  and  he  had  no  hesitation  in  volleying  out  his  views 
in  the  most  expressive  terms  at  his  command.  But 
even  this  was  not  the  topic  which  showed  him  at  his 
best.  No  one  could  appreciate  the  full  weight,  volume, 
and  velocity  of  his  vocabulary  who  had  not  listened 
to  his  remarks  upon  Dutchmen,  a  propos  of  the  receipt 
from  the  German  publishers  of  a  bewildering  assort- 


320  College  Life — The  Eighties 

ment  of  what  he  called  "  Bands,  Abtheelungs,  and 
Liferungs."  On  the  whole,  however,  Cana  was  a  fine 
old  fellow,  frank,  hearty,  and  kindly,  winning  from 
almost  all  with  whom  he  came  in  contact  affection  and 
esteem.  When  he  disappeared,  those  who  had  been 
accustomed  to  frequent  his  office  were  haunted  by  a 
feeling  of  emptiness.  The  change  there  seemed  almost 
like  a  type  of  the  passing  of  the  old  and  the  coming 
of  the  new. 


The  Early  Nineties 

Arthur  Guiterman,  '9  1 

P*\0  you,  or  did  you  ever,  keep  a  Memory  Box? 
^^^  There  is  one  at  present  lying  under  my  desk, 
for  I  pulled  it  down  from  a  dusty  shelf  and  opened 
it  a  few  days  ago;  and  as  I  lifted  the  cover,  out  poured 
a  whole  flock  of  recollections  of  five  lively  years  spent 
in  the  old  red-towered  building  on  Twenty-third  Street. 
The  box  is  a  treasury  of  trifles  that  I  haven't  yet  the 
heart  to  throw  away; — old  letters,  of  course;  faded 
pictures  of  sober-faced  boys  who  evidently  took  them- 
selves very  seriously;  photographs  of  some  of  the  same 
boys  costumed  and  posed  in  thrilling  scenes  in  college 
plays;  a  large  group  of  the  Intercollegiate  Team  of 
1 89 1,  all  wearing  the  white  trunks  and  black  running- 
shirt  with  the  diagonal  lavender  band  that  was  then 
de  rigueur,  and  looking  positively  tragic  in  their 
earnestness,  posed  against  the  ivied  background  of 
the  college  buildings;  copies  of  the  college  "  Mercury  " 
and  the  college  "  Journal  "  containing  solemn  editorials 
beginning,  ' '  Another  term  has  passed  away, ' '  or 
"Yule-tide  has  come  again  bringing  with  it — , "  to  say 

nothing   of    inspired    tales,  and    verse,    excruciatingly 

321 


322         College  Life — The  Early  Nineties 

funny  jokes  and  witty  personal  paragraphs  that  have 
somehow  lost  their  point;  manuscripts  of  orations 
delivered  on  the  chapel  stage  to  grinning  Seniors  on 
the  front  benches  who  were  far  more  interested  in  the 
trcmoloso  movement  of  the  speaker's  knees  than  in 
his  perfervid  periods;  wine-stained  menus  of  rollicking 
banquets;  a  crumpled  marshal's  badge;  programmes  of 
dramatic  entertainments,  and  many  other  odds  and 
ends  that  represent  college  life  as  it  was  in  my  day, 
which  is,  I  suppose  and  rather  hope,  college  life  as  it  is 
to-day  and  as  it  long  will  be. 

Perhaps  distance  lends  enchantment,  and,  equally 
perhaps,  it  affords  a  clearer,  truer  perspective;  but  it 
seems  as  though  fifteen  years  and  more  ago  an  essential 
harmony  and  unit)'  pervaded  our  collegiate  republic. 
To  be  sure  we  had  our  cliques  and  our  keen  personal 
rivalries;  class  politics  often  ran  high;  the  "  Mercury  " 
and  the  "Journal  "  sometimes  exchanged  pleasantries  in 
a  style  that  would  have  delighted  the  heart  of  the  editor 
of  the  Arizona  "  Kicker  ";  we  had  our  share  of  good- 
natured  class  battles;  for  instance,  one  night  after  a  prize 
debate,  incited  thereto  by  the  fiery  exhortations  of 
"Kiss."  '88  (now  known  to  fame  as  the  Honorable  Gon- 
zalo  de  Ouesada,  Cuban  Minister  at  Washington),  a 
small  but  compact  phalanx  of  the  Class  of  '91  rushed  a 
large  but  undisciplined  mob  of  the  Class  of  '92,  sweeping 
them  across  the  car-tracks  and  out  of  Twenty-third 
Street.  But  aside  from  incidental  clashes  there  was  a 
noteworthy  spirit  of  concord  both  among  the  students 


u 
O 


01 

2  3 


if 

C 

o 
o 


College  Life — The  Karly  Nineties        325 

as  individuals  and  between  the  classes.  We  stood 
together  for  the  College. 

I  wonder  whether  Time  has  wrought  many  changes 
in  the  routine  of  college  life?  We  used  to  tramp 
downtown  in  the  morning  carrying  a  greater  weight 
of  books  than  most  of  us  would  undertake  to  transport 
two  miles  or  more  in  these  degenerate  days.  With  the 
iron  gate  ominously  clanging  behind  us  we  entered  the 
stone-flagged  lower  hall  where,  to  quote  a  facetious 
contributor  to  the  "  Mercury,"  "in  obedience  to  a  sign 
that  confronted  us  we  took  off  our  shoes  and  carefully 
wiped  our  feet."  If  we  had  time  it  was  customary  to 
linger  a  while  below,  reading  the  notices  of  the  various 
societies  on  the  bulletin  boards  and  discussing  the 
weighty  affairs  of  our  little  world.  Then  we  climbed 
up  to  the  chapel,  found  our  places,  surreptitiously 
copied  a  kind  seatmate's  Greek  prose  exercise  with  a 
forbidden  fountain-pen,  listened,  I  hope  with  due 
reverence,  to  President  Webb's  sonorous  rendering  of 
a  chapter  from  the  Bible,  listened  with  entirely  justified 
irreverence  to  two  hackneyed  Sophomore  declamations 
and  a  reminiscent  Junior  or  Senior  oration,  and  then 
descended  to  our  proper  lecture-rooms,  changing 
these  hourly  according  to  schedule  with  the  brief  but 
welcome  intermission  of  lunch-time,  until  the  final  bell 
set  us  free. 

Was  there  ever  a  class  that  in  its  first  passage  across 
the  "Bridge  of  Sighs"  connecting  the  two  divisions  of 
the  old  buildings  neglected  to  mark  time  until  the  re- 


326         College  Life — The  Early  Nineties 

sounding  passage  trembled  perilously, — thereby  incur- 
ring the  Presidential  displeasure  as  expressed  in  a 
severe  lecture  from  the  chapel  pulpit  on  the  following 
morning  ? 

Was  there  ever  a  class  that  did  n't  amuse  itself  with 
mysterious  reagents  from  the  chemical  laboratory — 
sulphuretted  hydrogen  by  preference?  On  at  least 
one  occasion  that  odoriferous  fluid  was  smuggled  into 
the  chapel  and  carefully  sprinkled  over  the  floor  with 
wholly  natural  and  satisfactory  results,  except  that 
the  zealous  experimenter  escaped  detection  and  ex- 
pulsion. 

There  was  one  rather  thick-headed  chap — in  the  late 
eighties,  I  think — who  had  a  perfect  mania  for  borrow- 
ing from  the  laboratory  stores  supplies  of  chemicals 
for  original,  if  purely  empirical,  investigations.  One 
morning  two  wily  desk-mates  so  wrought  upon  him  by 
their  descriptions  of  wonderful  reactions  to  be  obtained 
with  sulphuretted  hydrogen  that  he  carefully  filled 
two  large  test-tubes  with  the  baleful  stuff  and  placed 
them  in  his  waistcoat  pockets  to  carry  home  for 
private  investigation.  As  he  hurried  through  the 
swinging  doors  of  the  lecture-room,  his  two  abandoned 
classmates  simultaneously  "  bodychecked "  him  from 
either  side;  the  test-tubes,  of  course,  were  shattered 
and  the  poor  victim  fled  home  for  a  bath  and  a  change 
of  clothing,  hating  himself  all  the  way. 

Truly,  as  Professor  Sim  used  to  drawl,  "  The  Fresh- 
man  is  a  ver-ry  wicked   man.      His  wickedness  cul- 


College  Life — The  Early  Nineties         327 

minates  in  the  Sophomore  year.  There  may  be  a  slight 
improvement  in  the  Junior  and  Senior  terms,  and 
about  ten  years  after  graduation  he  begins  to  become 
a  fairly  respectable  citizen.  "  In  the  light  of  experience 
I  am  sometimes  inclined  to  believe  that  Professor 
Sim  placed  the  time  of  reformation  altogether  too 
early. 

Do  undergraduates  still  sing, 

"  Mike  Bonney  lies  over  the  ocean, 
Mike  Bonney  lies  over  the  sea," 

on  gala  occasions  when  the  spirit  of  psalmody  moves 
them?  At  all  events  I  am  sure  that  Michael  Angelo 
Bonney,  as  we  always  styled  the  dominating  janitor, 
is  a  no  less  important  personage  now  than  he  was  in  our 
day.  when  his  own  unconscious  phrase,  "  Me  an'  the 
President, "  pretty  well  expressed  his  position  in  the 
cosmogony. 

Do  Jim  Reed's  preponderant  moustaches  luxuriate 
in  the  atmosphere  of  the  engine-room  as  they  did  in 
former  years? 

Is  there — ?  No,  I  am  sure  there  can't  be  any  such 
flow  of  Elizabethan  profanity  in  the  library  as  there 
was  in  the  time  of  little  old  Mr.  Cana  of  cherished 
memory.  His  demise  left  forever  vacant  the  chair  of 
Objurgation  and  Denunciation.  His  bursts  of  torrid 
eloquence  nearly  frightened  unsophisticated  Sub-fresh- 
men out  of  their  little  wits,  but  Juniors  and  Seniors, 
who  by  the  study  of  literature  had  learned  to  appreciate 


328         College  Life — The  Early  Nineties 

expressive  diction,  were  wont  to  gather  round  the 
little  man  and  listen  to  his  burning  words  in  admiration 
and  despair. 

On  one  occasion  a  few  of  us  belonging  to  a  choice 
coterie  known  to  the  police  as  "Murderers'  Row"  paid 
a  social  call  on  Mr.  Cana  in  his  library  where  it  was  our 
fortune  to  find  the  old  gentleman  in  a  peaceful  and 
reminiscent  mood.  He  dived  in  among  his  treasures 
and  brought  out  to  us  a  large  portrait.  "Know  who 
that  is?"  he  demanded. 

The  picture  represented  a  handsome  voung  captain 

of   cuirassiers,    curly-headed,    dark-eyed,    wearing   the 

enormous  black  moustaches  typical  of  le  beau  sabreur, 

—but  we  did  n't  recognize  him  as  an  acquaintance  and 

cheerfully  admitted  as  much. 

"Professor  Roemer, "  briefly  explained  the  little 
librarian. 

Now  Professor  Roemer  as  we  knew  him  in  his  kindly 
old  age  was  like  anything  but  that  dashing  young 
soldier;  yet,  to  those  with  whom  he  became  on  really 
intimate  terms,  he  would  sometimes  recount  a  few  choice 
adventures  of  the  martial  past.  With  great  animation 
he  would  tell  how,  brandishing  his  saber,  he  once  led  a 
desperate  cavalry  charge  in  the  face  of  a  murderous 
fire.  "All  at  once, "  he  would  say  at  the  most  thrilling 
paint  of  the  narration,  "I  turned  ray  head  to  shout 
to  my  troopairs. — Not  a  man  was  following  me!" 

"Why,  where  were  they,  Professor5"  was  the 
invariable   question. 


O       V 

c    w 


S      M 


C       O 


College  Life — The  Early  Nineties         33 ' 

"All  dead,"  came  the  nonchalant  answer. 

"  But  what  did  you  do  then,  Professor?" 

"  (  >h,  "  he  would  say,  with  a  shrug,  "  I  got  anothair 
troop.     Such  things  do  not  bothair  a  young  man." 

Dear  old  Professor  Roemer!  Sometimes  there  were 
little  clashes  that  would  wake  the  old  fiery  spirit,  and 
then  how  the  sparks  would  fly!  Yet  he  was  ever  the 
embodiment  of  the  fine  courtesy  of  the  French  officer 
and  gentleman  of  the  highest  order. 

Just  before  graduation  it  was  customary  to  acquire 
photographs,  signs,  and  other  college  souvenirs,  and 
I  asked  Professor  Roemer  for  his  likeness.  Now  as  I 
had  not  elected  to  take  French  in  my  Senior  year  I 
very  much  doubt  if  the  Professor  even  knew  my  face — 
much  less  my  name,  but  he  replied  with  a  most  charm- 
ing smile,  "  Cer-tain-lee, — eef  you  will  give  me  a 
photograph  of  yourself."  And  that,  I  think,  was  as 
delicate  a  bit  of  practical  courtesy  as  I  have  ever 
encountered. 

The  Dramatic  Association  was  a  highly  important 
institution  in  the  days  that  were.  We  really  had  one 
of  the  best  amateur  organizations  in  the  citv;  our 
plays  were  laboriously  rehearsed  for  months,  carefully 
costumed  and  well  staged,  and  we  not  onlv  financed 
the  Athletic  Association  with  the  proceeds  of  successful 
performances  in  town,  but  we  also  proved  our  inde- 
pendence of  friendly  audiences  by  carrying  the  bright 
torch  of  histrionic  glory  into  the  outlying  darkness  of 
Yonkers  and  likewise  elevated  the  stage  in  the  be- 


332        College  Life — The  Early  Nineties 

nighted    precincts    of    South     Norwalk,    Connecticut. 

Our  star  was  unquestionably  Jimmy  Hackett,  who, 
though  already  a  successful  actor-manager,  has  not 
yet  attained  the  pre-eminence  on  the  stage  that  we, 
who  knew  him  best,  are  confident  that  his  great  powers 
and  earnestness  will  eventually  win.  Hackett  was 
easily  the  most  popular  man  in  the  College  in  our  time, 
and  his  popularity  was  due,  not  so  much  to  his  talents, 
his  handsome  person,  or  his  achievements  on  the  la- 
crosse and  football  field  and  the  cinder-path,  as  to  his 
uniform  good-fellowship  and  amiability.  When  he 
declaimed  "Wolsey's  Farewell"  from  the  chapel 
stage  the  silence  was  simply  awe-inspiring,  and  his 
victory  at  Prize  Speaking  was  a  foregone  conclusion. 

Our  stage's  second  prop  was  the  redoubtable  Billy 
Wood  of  rotund  figure  and  irresistibly  infectious 
chuckle,  a  born  comedian  if  there  ever  was  one;  and 
those  who  never  saw  him  play  "  Little  Lord  Fauntleroy" 
at  a  weight  of  two  hundred  pounds  and  upwards 
cannot  realize  the  true  inwardness  of  that  famous  role. 
Billy's  bulk  was  deceptive;  it  was  more  beef  than  fat; 
he  was  an  agile  dancer,  an  expert  wrestler,  a  shifty, 
hard-hitting  boxer,  and  a  highly  efficient  tug-of-war 
man.  He  was,  moreover,  a  most  adroit  politician. 
In  the  last  year  of  his  long  and  joyous  course,  at  the 
head  of  a  small  but  well  organized  ring,  he  successfully 
dominated  the  Class  of  '90  in  the  face  of  the  opposition 
of  a  large  and  vociferous  majority.  How  he  managed 
this  he  still  refuses  to  explain.     Billy  has  now  taken  the 


College  Life — The  Early  Nineties        333 

Island  of  Cuba  under  his  august  care  and  patronage 
and  promises  to  make  something  out  of  the  fair  but 
tumultuous  republic.  If  he  really  sets  his  mind  to  the 
task  you  may  expect  that  the  Empire  of  Cuba  under 
William  I.  will  soon  annex  the  United  States. 

Our  dramatis  personas  likewise  included  Stevie 
Lutz,  metamorphosed  from  the  centre-rush  of  the 
football  team  into  the  most  sprightly  of  elderly  ladies; 
there  was  also  Phil  Stern,  later  Captain  Philip  H. 
Stern,  veteran  of  two  wars,  whom  we  call  "Filipino 
Phil,  the  Boy  Terror  of  Luzon,"  though  he  is  now 
quietly  practising  lawr  down  in  Alabama ;  and  there  were 
others  "too  numerous  to  mention." 

On  the  lacrosse  field  Mr.  Mitchell  was  our  tutor  and 
Jack  Curry  was  the  captain  who  led  us  to  victories 
that  did  not  become  monotonous  by  too  great  fre- 
quency. Yet  the  silver  lacrosse  stick,  still  preserved 
among  the  College  trophies,  remains  as  evidence  that 
our  boys,  though  generally  far  younger  and  lighter 
than  their  opponents,  learned  how  to  play  the  game. 
Curry  after  his  graduation  was  long  captain  of  the 
famous  team  of  the  Crescent  Athletic  Club,  and  J.  H. 
Greenbaum  was  his  worthy  successor  on  the  college 
team. 

Field  sports  are  usually  considered  a  pretty  good 
basis  for  military  training.  At  all  events  Edgar  Bell, 
who  in  practice  once  shot  a  goal  past  me  clear  from  the 
other  end  of  the  field,  afterward  went  to  West  Point 
and  is,  presumably,  still  in  the  service.     Jack  Oakes, 


334        College  Life — The  Early  Nineties 

who  once  stopped  a  goal  with  his  eye  (he  came  to  college 
next  day  with  the  finest  black  eye  imaginable),  also 
went  to  the  Point,  graduated  second  in  his  class,  and  is 
now  a  Captain  of  Engineers  at  Washington.  Incident- 
ally, there  were  at  least  four  men  from  my  class  alone 
who  served  as  officers  in  Cuba  and  the  Philippines, 
so  it  is  probable  that  the  College  was  well  represented 
in  the  War  of  1898  and  its  subsequent  developments. 

Scholarship?  Oh,  well,  we  took  our  A.B.'s  or  B.S.'s, 
but  somehow  I  like  best  to  remember  that  my  class 
won  the  college  games  in  its  Sub-freshman  year,  and 
that  it  was  the  mainstay  of  the  Dramatic  Association, 
the  lacrosse  team,  and  the  bicycle  club.  The  courses 
not  in  the  curriculum,  after  all,  have  as  much  to  do 
with  developing  character,  personality,  and  ability 
as  have  Latin,  Greek,  French,  and  the  mathematics. 

Yet  we  learned  much  and  knew  how  to  apply  our 
profound  learning.  This  may  be  gathered  in  a  glance 
at  the  menu  of  the  banquet  that  celebrated  the  end  of 
our  college  days  in  which  various  viands  are  listed  as : 
"  Lamellibranchiata:  Myolene  Swallowi,  in  lime.  Soups: 
Aqua-Regia  with  the  Faculty  in  it.  Pisces:  Ganoids, 
Selachians,  Placoderms,  a  la  Devonian.  Viand:  Iguan- 
odon  steak,  caught  by  Professor  W.  S.  Punch:  Ethyl 
Methyl  Alcohol,  Glace\  Aves:  Archaeopterix  on  car- 
bonized cereal." — So  you  see  we  were  wise  as  well  as 
witty. 

And  to  think  that  so  many  of  these  boys  are  now  do- 
ing their  share  of  the  world's  work,  and  doing  it  well! 


5 

o 
c 


Under  the  Changing  Rule 

Howard    C.   Green,  '02 

A  AWHILE  some  may  view  with  pride  and  fond 
recollection,  as  Alma  Mater,  those  white- 
capped  towers,  rearing  their  stately  beauty  upon 
St.  Nicholas  Terrace,  yet  to  many  others  will  come, 
then,  the  memory  of  the  quaint  red  towers  of  a 
smaller  and  vine-clad  building,  where  amid  storm 
and  stress  was  laid  the  foundation  of  their  careers. 
The  impressions  of  those  undergraduate  days,  and 
all  their  vicissitudes,  are  recalled  to  memory  with 
mingled  joy  and  regret.  He  of  the  "nineties"  re- 
joices that  the  speculations  of  a  new  home  for  the 
College  are  now  a  grand  reality,  and  he  regrets  that  so 
many  dear  faces  and  many  scenes  must  be  now  only 
the  treasures  of  memory. 

To  the  graduate  of  19 12  there  will  be  no  "old  days," 
no  fifty  years  of  precedent  to  weigh  upon  him,  to  add 
veneration  to  the  love  which  he  also  will  feel  for  his 
Alma  Mater.  The  man  of  1902  is  almost  the  last  to  re- 
member "old  days"  in  the  old  building  as  they  always 
had  been. 

337 


33%      College  Life — Under  Changing  Rule 

He  well  remembers  the  day  he  passed  in  line 
through  the  chapel  and  received  his  number  for  those 
dreaded  entrance  examinations;  and  how  vividly  ap- 
pears the  picture  of  that  room  of  mystery,  where,  among 
strangers,  and  under  the  watchful  eye  of  a  "  professor," 
he  poured  forth  his  knowledge  upon  large  yellow  sheets 
bearing  only  the  identification  number.  How  he  won- 
dered if  he  were  a  lucky  number.  Those  long,  anxious 
days  again  appear,  during  which  he  daily  consulted  the 
newspapers  for  that  list  which  should  foretell  his  fate. 
At  length  he  was  able  to  say  to  his  friends  that  "he 
would  enter  college  in  the  fall."  During  vacation  he 
learned  more  of  his  future;  that  he  was  to  be  dubbed  of 
the  species,  "Subby,"  a  fact  more  deeply  impressed 
upon  him  by  the  following  October. 

Eight  weeks'  probation  passed  all  too  soon,  and 
some  Special  Invitations  came  to  the  section  and,  alas! 
the  "invited  guests"  were  seen  no  more.  Despite  the 
almost  over-generous  lessons  and  the  fact  that  the  bat- 
tle had  only  begun,  the  survivor  was  happy  to  be  still  in 
the  ranks.  He  had  learned  many  things.  He  was  con- 
vinced that  the  longest  way  over  the  bridge  to  the 
Drawing  Room  was  the  safest.  A  stentorian  voice  had 
called  him  back  once,  while  others  escaped,  and  at  least 
one  "historical  record"  had  been  added  to  his  fame. 
What  a  history  that  section-book  became,  and  what  a 
study  in  rhetoric!  "Subby"  also  learned  the  respec- 
tive values  of  all  the  numbers  from  one  to  ten  but 
almost  believed  that  beyond  nine  no  one  of  his  class 


College  Life — Under  Changing  Rule       339 

could  go.  There  were  intermediate  fractions,  too,  be- 
tween those  fateful  figures.  He  lost  all  faith  in  signs. 
The  pen  point  might  be  tracing  a  zero  when  he  was 
sure  it  was  a  six. 

The  prospects  of  attending  chapel,  and  all  the  glamor 
thereof,  were  still  denied  him  at  this  period,  and  he  still 
felt  himself  on  very  precarious  ground.  This  he  real- 
ized very  keenly  when  the  fusillade  of  the  first  day  of 
"Review  Exam."  was  over.  On  the  second  Fridav  he 
breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  and  presently  was  again  thank- 
ful that  the  Secretary  had  not  invited  him  to  an  extra 
session  in  the  lecture-room,  where  the  voice  is  not  that  of 
the  grand  old  Professor  expounding  the  wonders  of 
physics,  but  a  briefer,  bitterer  announcement.  That 
afternoon  those  of  the  chosen  few  who  had  heard  the 
tragic  summons  of  fate  learned  from  sympathizing 
upper-classmen  of  the  "petition"  and  the  medical  cer- 
tificate, and  each  was  comfortingly  assured  that  "he'd 
get  back."  But  do  you  remember  how  many  suc- 
ceeded ?  How  many  only  began  to  understand  the  ad- 
vantages of  the  City  College,  and  "left!" 

Do  you  recall  those  exhibits  of  "professorial  pen- 
manship" behind  glass  in  the  lower  hall,  which  all  fort- 
nightly consulted,  and  often  to  our  dismay?  Those 
sheets  called  forth  many  an  impassioned  speech  that 
would  have  been  held  inappropriate  in  recitation. 

By  degrees  our  "Subby"  learns  the  names  of  more 
of  the  stern  individuals  whom  he  meets  in  the  halls 
"between  the  hours"  strolling  or  chatting,  and  even 


34o      College  Life — Under  Changing  Rule 

joking,  an  attitude  seemingly  quite  inconsistent  with 
his  recent  experiences  within  the  "Professor's"  room. 
Every  instructor  to  the  "Subby"  was  a  "Professor." 

May  we  dwell  a  little  longer  on  these  earliest  recol- 
lections? Remember  those  hours  spent  in  the  "family 
circle"  where  we  were  told  to  "write,  you  sinners, 
write,  as  you  would  to  her,"  and  "draw  this,  gentle- 
men— draw  this,"  and  the  interjections  of  "George!" 
and  "Mr.  Mandel,  take  that  young  man's  name,"  and 
those  jokes — good  old  days!  Yes,  and  did  we, 
in  that  year,  appreciate  that  genial  face,  that  eloquent 
voice,  and  the  "marvellous  experiments"?  Can  we  not 
hear  some  of  those  wonderful  phrases  ring  in  our  ears  ? 
How  many  have  the  book  and  the  beautiful  drawings 
made  by  each  of  us  with  so  much  care — or  begun  and 
completed  in  a  last  wild  scramble  on  the  final  night 
before  the  books  were  "called  in  for  examination  "  ? 

We  remember  that  0.  B.  P.  might  mean  out  buying 
pretzels;  and  that  the  cost  for  registering  among  the 
immortals  was  often  ten  demerits  when  the  gate  to  the 
stairs  had  just  closed  in  front  of  us.  The  bulletin 
boards,  as  we  lingered  impotent  in  the  basement,  sug- 
gested to  Sub-freshmen  eyes  merely  the  possible  dis- 
tinctions one  might  acquire  either  as  an  artist  or  as  a 
member  of  several  societies — or  of  all. 

We  met  the  faithful  old  guardian  of  the  repository, 
that  unique  character  who  was  never  too  busy  to  plod 
from  the  "Office "  to  the  dust-laden  shelves  to  exchange 
a  book  or  sell  a  two-cent  note-book,  which  contained 


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College  Life — Under  Changing  Rule      343 

"  those"  prose  exercises  that  spoiled  many  a  good  reci- 
tation mark.  We  also  made  awed  acquaintance  with 
the  "Boss"  of  the  Institution,  not  meaning  the 
President. 

At  the  threshold  of  the  General's  room  we  all  remem- 
ber having  waited  for  the  kindly  smile  and  searching 
look  of  "Prex,"  accompanied  by  the  welcome  "Come 
in" — and  we  have  returned  after  a  brief  interview  with 
our  card  either  stamped  "Excused,"  or  "Examination 
for  average."  Then  we  must  "present  the  card"  for 
the  hieroglyphic  endorsements. 

Now  comes  June,  and  again,  indeed  for  the  third 
time,  the  poor  "  Subby  "  wonders  whether  his  recitation 
of  yesterday  was  his  last  within  the  sanctuary.  After 
more  trials  and  anxious  waiting  he  sees  the  great  and 
the  small  fall  while  the  victorious  ones  are  allowed  the 
pleasure  of  looking  forward  to  passing  the  ordeals  of  the 
Freshman  year — reported  to  be  "the  hardest  year  in 
college,"  or  he  still  may  be  only  a  quasi-Fveshman  with 
weeks  of  cram  for  "re-exam."  in  hot  September  staring 
him  in  the  face. 

In  a  file  of  the  1896  "College  Mercury"  one  may  find 
not  only  a  series  of  club  notices,  with  their  respective 
illustrated  headpieces  and  hieroglyphs,  but  also  the 
record  of  various  other  societies  of  those  "old  days." 
There  was  the  roisterous  banjo  player,  the  soloist  of  the 
Glee  Club,  with  seemingly  distorted  face,  the  hard  ped- 
dling "scorcher,"  and  the  chairman  of  the  Literary 
Society — trying  to  test  the  strength  of  his  gavel — so 


344      College  Life — Under  Changing  Rule 

each  society  notice  was  headed  with  its  suggestive  cut. 
More  mysterious  than  all  were  the  symbols  of  the 
"Greeks."  There  were,  also,  the  Mandolin  Club,  Cam- 
era Club,  Golf  Club,  Skating  Club,  Tennis  Club,  Chess 
Club,  Cricket  Club,  Phreno,  and  Clio,  and  the  Bible 
Class  of  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  Neither  the  "Mercury"  nor 
the  students  could  keep  track  of  all  the  meetings  of 
these  "  various  and  divers  "  activities. 

We  also  learn  from  these  ancient  papers  that  in  1896 
the  first  glimmer  of  hope  for  new  and  larger  quarters 
was  realized  when  the  bill  authorizing  the  new  build- 
ings was  passed  at  Albany. 

The  following  year  the  College  lost  by  death  Profes- 
sor Hard\-  of  the  English  Department,  a  man  beloved 
and  respected  by  all  whose  privilege  it  was  to  have 
known  him.     He  had  been  with  us  only  three  years. 

After  the  Easter  vacation  of  '97  some  students  in 
the  Department  of  Natural  History  met  the  perplexing 
situation  of  calling  their  instructor  by  a  new  name. 
The}-  were  corrected  "frequently";  and  often,  when  the 
instructor,  forgetting  the  change  himself,  would  correct 
the  new  form  and  demand  the  original,  the  dilemma  was 
greater  and  the  prospect  of  "maximum  "  dimmer.  But 
this  man  was  a  father  to  all  who  came  under  his  instruc- 
tion, and  his  sudden  death  was  a  personal  loss  to  all 
who  knew  him. 

In  the  earl}-  part  of  '97  we  remember  how  over- 
energetic  the  Freshmen  and  Sophs  became  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Madison  Square.     Directly  the  press  was 


College  Life — Under  Changing  Rule      345 

full  of  articles  describing  how  college  students  had  for- 
gotten their  dignity  even  to  the  extent  of  a  "riot." 
After  this  chastizing,  students  of  C.  C.  N.  Y.  gained 
Utile  newspaper  popularity,  until  the  subway  gave 
opportunity  for  further  picturesque  journalistic  exag- 
gerations. 

Subs  and  Juniors — forgive  the  comparison — may 
remember  the  "monster  Holtz  machine,"  which  visited 
us  on  its  way  to  Washington,  D.  C, — and  how  shocking 
it  was! 

In  '98  the  Senior  class  obtained  the  temporary  abol- 
ishment of  the  section-book,  but  the  resulting  order  or 
disorder  caused  it  to  be  restored  to  the  Seniors  of  the  fol- 
lowing year.  The  men  of  '98  even  rose  to  the  dignity 
of  the  Cap  and  Gown.  This  not  only  awed  the  under- 
classmen but  also  incurred  much  silent  ridicule  from 
other  quarters.  Again  and  again  some  learned  Sen- 
iors ventured  such  scholastic  insignia  only  to  abandon 
them  until  that  night  when,  sweltering  in  them,  they 
received  "all  the  rights,  privileges,  and  honors,"  etc. 

The  stirring  war  time  of  '98  is  fresh  in  all  our  minds, 
but  how  few  of  us  students  realized  how  nobly  the  Col- 
lege answered  the  call  to  arms  . 

Two  undergraduates  put  aside  their  college  careers 
for  the  camp  and  field — Messrs.  Brockway  and  Inevado. 
The  latter  never  returned,  but  succumbed  to  the  fever 
camps.  Not  to  do  injustice  to  manv  valiant  alumni, 
we  cannot  help  but  mention  among  those  who  saw  ac- 
tive service,  the  fearless  and  noble  Major  Frank  Keck 


346       College  Life — Under  Changing  Rule 

of  '72  who  waved  his  red  bandanna  as  he  led  the  way 
up  San  Juan. 

By  Christmas,  '98,  the  appropriation  for  the  new 
buildings  was  approved  and  more  commodious  quar- 
ters seemed  nearer  than  the  horizon  of  distant  hope. 
The  first  decided  evidence  of  growth  emphasizing  the 
need  for  more  adequate  class  room  took  the  form  of  a 
year's  lease  of  a  floor  in  the  Metropolitan  Life  Insur- 
ance Building,  where  five  Sub-freshmen  and  four 
Freshmen  sections  reported  about  April,  1899 — a  pleas- 
ant change  from  the  dark  and  unquiet  curtained  chapel 
rooms  where  both  students  and  instructors  labored 
under  great  difficulties. 

Mention  of  the  chapel  will  remind  the  men  of  '99  of 
the  elaborate  ceremonies  then  instituted,  when  the 
numerals  of  '99  were  illuminated  upon  the  stage,  the 
occasion  being  celebrated  by  speech  and  poem.  Few 
there  are  who  have  not  some  recollection  of  their  own 
part  in  some  morning  entertainment  in  the  chapel  or 
in  the  Natural  History  Hall — either  the  declamation 
eloquent,  or  the  learned  oration.  You  remember  how 
the  result  of  your  efforts  was  told  by  a  flourish  of  red 
ink  upon  a  little  white  card,  posted  up  in  the  lower  hall, 
and  how  seldom  you  agreed  with  the  value  there  re- 
ci  >rded.  The  memories  of  the  chapel  are  perhaps  more 
numerous  than  those  associated  with  any  other  one 
part  of  the  building.  It  was  the  scene  of  "oratory"  and 
remarks,  class  elections,  class  plays,  the  Alumni  recep- 
tion, and  a  host  of  minor  events  too  numerous  to  specify. 


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College  Life — Under  Changing  Rule      349 

In  April,  1899,  some  reckless  chap  attracted  unwar- 
ranted attention  by  a  fire  scare  in  the  newspapers, 
and  there  followed  much  talk  about  the  dangers  of  the 
building,  the  increasing  number  of  the  students,  the 
lack  of  sufficient  exits,  and  so  on.  This  discussion,  how- 
ever, soon  subsided.  The  guardians  of  the  halls  and 
stairways  by  various  "  gentle  reminders"  had  well  ac- 
customed us  to  habits  which  made  all  dismissals  as 
orderly  as  a  fire  drill. 

The  century  year  was  one  of  both  joy  and  of  sorrow; 
the  Junior  class  was  given  more  electives  and  we  remem- 
ber how  many  profited  by  experience  and  tried  to  avoid 
what  seemed  likely  to  be  "  dangerous. ' '  On  May  fourth 
Governor  Roosevelt  signed  the  bill  which  provided  a 
Board  of  Trustees  to  control  the  College.  These  were 
to  be  appointed  by  the  Mayor.  As  the  Alumni  had 
well  served  their  Alma  Mater  in  the  Board  of  Education, 
now  they  availed  themselves  of  this  new  opportunity 
and  the  rapid  strides  and  growth  of  old  C.  C.  N.  Y.  into 
a  new  C.  C.  N.  Y.  attest  well  their  earnest  efforts  and  the 
wisdom  of  their  plans  carefully  executed  and  aided  by 
our  President,  Dr.  John  Huston  Finley. 

When  we  returned  in  the  fall  of  1 900  how  sadly  sur- 
prised we  were  to  find  our  campus  narrowed  and  fire 
escapes  added  to  nature's  adornment  of  the  old  pile. 

Real  sadness  and  deep  regret  fell  like  a  cloud  upon 
the  whole  institution  when  we  learned  that  Conrad  H. 
Nordby  had  passed  away  October  28th.  The  tribute 
of  the  "  Mercury  "  but  faintly  expressed  our  sorrow: 


35°      College  Life — Under  Changing  Rule 

Conrad  H.  Xordby. — A  kind  and  respected  instructor,  a  loving 
husband  and  father,  a  sincere  and  affectionate  friend — Conrad 
H.  Nordby  was  in  turn  loved  and  respected  by  everybody.  A 
man  who  was  truly  loved  by  all  who  knew  him. 

It  is  often  remarked  that  there  was  not  much  col- 
lege life  in  the  social  sense,  but  one  must  remember  that 
he  may  have  failed  to  take  advantage  of  the  opportuni- 
ties offered.  There  were  the  two  Literary  Societies, 
with  open  arms  to  suitable  men,  there  were  a  variety  of 
Clubs,  as  we  have  seen,  each  for  some  special  trend  of 
mind;  there  was  the  Athletic  Association,  so  generously 
encouraged  by  some  of  our  professors.  It  held  the  annual 
games.  Think  of  the  results  of  those  contests  under  the 
handicaps  of  lack  of  practice.  We  did  have  a  baseball 
nine.  There  were  the  great  and  stirring  debates  and 
the  filling ( ?)  class  dinners,  each  with  its  own  aftermath. 
There  was  also  the  mutual  contest  among  the  Frater- 
nities for  new  and  valuable  members,  a  struggle  wherein 
those  precious  fifteen  minutes  at  noon  were  so  enjoy- 
ably  passed  as  to  lead  one  almost  to  forget  the  lunch 
counters  in  the  yard.  Many  will  long  remember  the 
happy  groups  of  good  fellows  who  obstructed  the  vari- 
ous passages  to  the  stairs,  and  other  traditionally 
established  "corners." 

The  class  of  1902  was  first  to  experience  the  new 
curriculum  intended  to  extend  over  the  seven  years' 
course,  but  upon  the  men  of  '02  the  full  advance  was 
not  rigidly  enforced.  This  was  also  the  last  class  whose 
diplomas  were  signed  by  General  Webb.     In  the  fall  of 


College  Life — Under  Changing  Rule       351 

1902,  on  behalf  of  the  students,  a  beautiful  loving  cup 

was  presented  to  the  retiring  president  in  appreciation 
of  his  long,  faithful,  and  valuable  services  in  the  interest 
<  >f  the  young  men  of  our  city. 


The  Present  System 

James   Ambrose  Farrell,  '07 

HP  HE  College  has  come  into  so  many  things 
within  the  last  few  years  that  it  requires 
considerable  restraint  to  avoid  the  superlative  in 
talking  or  writing  of  it.  Twenty-five  thousand  dol- 
lar organs,  thirty  thousand  dollar  murals,  and  seven 
thousand  pound  bells  do  not  encourage  modesty.  The 
"new  era"  has  been  dinned  so  blatantly  into  our 
ears  that  some  of  us  forget  that  the  four  years  that 
compass  our  direct  association  with  the  College  are 
not  the  beginning,  the  middle,  and  the  end  of  our  Alma 
Mater's  history.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  we  did  not 
spring  full-armed  from  the  Jovian  brow  of  Harris. 
We  had  to  grow  and  to  forge  our  armor.  For  a  half- 
century  and  over  our  forbears  busied  themselves  with 
the  making  of  the  panoply.  Without  the  skill  that 
they  put  forth  in  the  fashioning,  or  the  courage  and 
strength  they  displayed  when  they  used  it  before  it 
was  completely  wrought,  we  have  taken  from  them  the 
goodly  armor  to  gird  upon  ourselves.  The  greater 
part  of  our  work  has  been  done  for  us.     The  mail  is 

352 


Entrance  from  the  Yard. 
Looking  north,  to  the  right  stood  the  "pie  shop"  in  older  days.     The 
covered  walk  is  a  recent  innovation. 


353 


College  Life — The  Present  System        355 

ours,  ours  to  use,  if  strength  is  given  us,  with  fore- 
knowledge that  from  the  armet  to  the  sollerets,  with 
equal  care  for  the  little  rose  and  the  heavy  cuirass, 
every  part  is  perfectly  tempered. 

Fortunately,  something  was  left  to  the  present 
collegiate  generation,  for  no  work  is  so  good  bu1 
that  other  workmen  can  improve  it.  We  of  the  past 
four  years,  everybody  from  our  beneficent  genius,  the 
City,  through  our  Trustees  and  Faculty  down  to 
the  younger  tutors  and  the  youngest  student;  from 
the  master  workmen  to  the  humblest  apprentice,  all 
have  burnished  the  well-made  armor  that  lay  darkling 
in  the  sight  of  men,  until  it  has  taken  on  a  polish  that 
makes  the  poorest  of  sight  to  see  that  the  armor  is 
there  and  that  it  is  good.  It  is  of  this  "polish"  that 
I  may  be  able  to  tell  something  of  interest  to  him  who 
would  know  the  College,  from  the  standpoint  of  the 
student,  who,  as  a  spectator,  has  seen  at  work  some  of 
the  forces  that  have  brought  about  the  polish. 

The  new  buildings  leap  at  once  to  the  mind,  but 
they  are  the  result  of  twenty  years  and  not  of  the  last 
four.  The  graduate  of  the  College  and  every  other 
friend  of  the  College  knows  of  their  history,  their  size, 
their  equipment,  and  their  beauty,  but  he  knows 
nothing  of  the  effect  they  have  had  on  the  men  in 
College  whom  they  have  inspired  with  a  desire  to  be 
worthy  of  the  new  home  and  all  that  goes  with  it. 
The  news  of  every  delay  in  the  progress  of  the  work 
has  been  received  with  impatience.     The  completion 


356        College  Life — The  Present  System 

of  any  part  of  the  work  that  ought  to  be  a  finishing 
touch  has  been  hailed  with  joy.  Washington  Heights 
have  formed  the  background  in  every  plan  made  bv 
the  students;  every  society  in  the  College  has  mapped 
out  its  work  with  reference  to  the  wider  field  of  oppor- 
tunity offered  by  the  new  buildings. 

Hundreds  of  new  plans  have  been  made  in  every 
direction  of  student  activity;  and  the  right  spirit,  the 
indefinable  atmosphere  that  at  its  best  we  call  "college 
spirit,*'  has  become  tenfold  more  potent.  The  strength- 
ening of  this  force  has  come  about  partly  as  a  reflection 
of  the  possibilities  foreseen  in  the  promised  land,  and 
partly  as  an  inevitable  consequence  of  the  equivalent 
of  the  spirit  or  another  variety  of  it  in  the  man  who 
came  to  us  as  our  president  in  September,  1903. 
President  Finley  at  once  put  himself  in  touch,  at  every 
point,  with  his  students  and  has  kept  in  touch  with 
them  ever  since.  This  personal  contact  has  meant 
much  to  the  men  in  College  and  with  the  co-operation 
of  the  personal  force  and  enthusiasm  of  a  young 
working  president  many  things  have  been  accomplished 
that  without  this  co-operation  might  have  been  left 
undone. 

The  administration  of  the  College  is  an  immense 
burden.  The  president  wants  a  dean  to  relieve 
him  of  a  great  part  of  the  work  connected  with  the 
supervision  of  the  four  college  classes.  The  need,  too, 
for  such  an  officer  is  apparent,  but  we  hope  that 
it  will  be  vears  before  the  Trustees  can  see  their  way 


College  Life — The  Present  System        357 

to  his  appointment.  The  fear  of  offending  the  modesty 
for  which  the  president  is  known  forbids  even  an 
enumeration  of  the  things  that  are  to  be  attributed 
entirely  or  in  part  to  him.  About  a  year  after  Dr. 
Finley's  inauguration,  a  lower-classman  had  the  privi- 
lege of  writing,  for  a  paper  read  by  men  in  all  the  eastern 
colleges,  of  the  president  of  City  College  and  what  he 
had  done  for  it  in  a  year.  In  an  appreciative  letter 
Dr.  Finley  said:  'Thank  you  for  the  article  about 
City  College.  You  say  too  much  in  praise  of  its 
president—  The   young   man   to   whom   the   letter 

was  addressed  had  at  that  time  a  firm  conviction,  and 
believes  still  more  firmly  now,  that  to  say  too  much 
in  praise  of  the  president  was  a  task  that  surpassed 
his  powers,  if  it  was  not.  indeed,  impossible. 

With  that  same  treasured  letter,  which  is  valued  as 
the  president  himself  prizes  an  encouraging  letter  from 
Edward  Everett  Hale,  to  "a  young  college  president  in 
the  West,"  as  he  speaks  of  himself  in  an  article,  there 
came  just  a  slight  feeling  of  resentment — though  the 
word  is  perhaps  a  little  too  strong, — a  sense  that  thanks 
were  superfluous.  It  seemed  like  a  father  thanking  his 
son  for  aiding  his  own  brother.  In  the  College,  surely, 
the  students  were  all  members  of  one  family  with  the 
Trustees  and  Faculty,  a  family  working  together  for 
the  good  of  the  College.  That  feeling,  for  which  Dr. 
Finley  must  hold  himself  responsible,  that  all  are  labor- 
ing shoulder  to  shoulder  for  the  good  of  the  College, 
all  striving  for  the  good  of  what  is  dear  to  them  simply 


358       College  Life — The  Present  System 

because  it  is  dear,  has  reached  its  best  expression  under 
our  new  president.  He  has  the  feeling  deep-rooted 
and  exemplifies  it  every  moment  of  his  busy  day.  The 
most  diffident,  the  least  enthusiastic  Freshman  cannot 
fail  to  absorb  some  of  it  in  spite  of  himself.  With 
the  spirit  the  president  combines  enormous  energy.  He 
is  one  of  those  few  men  to  whom  the  awed  praise 
given  to  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  by  an  admirer  who  said 
he  could  "toil  terribly"  may  be  applied  without  sac- 
rificing the  vigor  of  the  expression  in  the  application. 
About  three  years  ago  each  section  in  the  College 
was  invited  to  elect  a  delegate  with  a  view  to  form- 
ing a  body  representing  the  four  classes.  The  plan 
was  cordially  received  and  a  Student  Council  was  or- 
ganized. The  function  of  the  Council  is  the  same 
as  that  of  student  boards  of  representatives  at  other 
colleges  and  universities — it  is  a  medium  through 
winch  the  students  and  Faculty  are  brought  closer 
together.  (  hir  Council  has  justly  earned  the  reputation 
of  not  being  a  "meddlesome  body."  It  has  thus  far 
been  merelv  the  mouthpiece  of  the  students  in  matters 
in  which  undergraduates  are  interested,  and  it  has 
aided  the  president  of  the  College  in  arranging  for  the 
observance  of  anniversaries  and  in  ascertaining  student 
sentiment  on  different  questions.  Its  creation  was  one 
more  instance  of  the  liberal  policy  of  the  new  adminis- 
tration, and  its  attitude  has  proved  the  wisdom  of  giving 
students  a  fair  measure  of  participation  in  affairs  in 
which  thev  are  immediatelv  concerned. 


The  Yard  and  the  Bridge  of  Siohs. 

View  looking  east  with  main  College  on  left.  Twenty-second  Street  annex 

on  right,  and  laboratory  building  in  background. 


359 


College  Life — The  Present  System        361 

The  spirit  of  self-reliance  has  been  helped  further  by 
the  establishment  of  the  elective  system.  The  students 
who  pass  out  as  the  first  products  of  the  a  la  carte  service 
are  thoroughly  satisfied.  Contrary,  perhaps,  to  general 
expectations,  their  intellectual  appetite  and  thirst 
for  the  waters  of  wisdom  have  shown  no  appreciable 
diminution.  If  the  theory  that  a  man  who  has  reached 
the  sophomore  year  at  college  is  capable  of  exercising 
his  own  judgment  holds  good  at  other  colleges,  it  is 
at  least  equally  sound  at  City  College. 

The  formation  of  a  department  of  physical  training 
was  so  obvious  a  concomitant  of  the  new  order  of  things 
that  the  coming  of  a  new  associate  professor  out  of  the 
West  created  no  sensation.  The  good  work  done  by 
the  new  director  and  his  assistants  shouts  out,  in 
refutation,  its  answer  to  the  good  old  souls  who  con- 
tend that  physical  training  should  have  little  or  no 
place  in  the  course  at  City  College.  The  new  gymna- 
sium has  brought  highly  improved  facilities  for  training 
that  have  already  resulted  in  winning  teams.  If  there 
is  anything  that  nourishes  in  her  sons  a  healthy  pride 
in  the  College  more  vigorously  than  do  teams  whose 
victories  are  followed  by  a  keen,  proprietary  sense  of 
interest,  we  shall  all  be  willing  to  deck  ourselves  in 
cap  and  gown  and  take  our  exercise  in  scanning 
Archilochus. 

With  the  interest  in  physical  work  there  has  come, 
inevitably,  an  increase  along  intellectual  lines. 
Whether  the  quality  of  our  debates  has  improved  or 


362        College  Life — The  Present  System 

not,  there  has  been  an  undoubted  increase  in  quantity; 
more  men  can  speak  well  and  debate  well  and  the 
average  ability  is  far  higher  than  it  was  a  few  years 
ago.  Our  range  has  been  increased  from  the  moss- 
covered  joint  debates  of  the  past  sixty  years  to  inter- 
collegiate debating.  Before  our  teams  the  best  men 
in  a  college  known  for  its  work  along  forensic  lines, 
Hamilton,  have  twice  gone  down  to  defeat. 

Of  other  roads  along  which  we  have  taken  long 
steps  in  the  right  direction,  passing  the  good  marks 
reached  by  our  predecessors,  much  might  be  said. 
That  we  are  new,  however,  should  not  be  too  strongly 
insisted  upon;  it  is  only  because  we  have  had  a  period 
of  sound  youth  and  a  healthy  and  true  maturity  that 
we  can  put  our  manhood  strength  to  its  best  use  now. 
Xo  one  can  realize  more  surely  than  we  who  stand 
at  the  meeting  of  the  old  and  the  new,  just  how  much 
we  are  indebted  to  the  old. 

We  who  are  still  in  the  College  have  new  ideas,  else 
were  we  falling  short  of  our  early  promise,  but  we  have 
old  ideas  too.  We  have  with  us  now  new  men — men 
of  full  strength — but,  worthy  Senior,  vain  of  things 
vour  betters  caused  to  be,  with  us,  also,  as  Eliphaz  the 
Temanite  said  to  Job,  "are  both  the  gray-headed  and 
very  aged  men,  much  elder  than  thy  father. "  To  the 
old  men  our  debt  is  great.  Ma}-  we  go  forth  with  the 
obligation  to  pay  some  part  of  it  worthily,  and  the  will 
and  strength  to  do.  So  we  who  form  the  pointer, 
the  small  finger  between  the  weight  of  the  old,  on  one 


College  Life — The  Present  System        363 

side,  and  the  new  metal  that  is  undergoing  test,  on  the 
other,  an  uncertain  index,  unimportant  in  itself  but 
significant  —we  feel  the  old  and  the  new.  We  shall 
stand  ready  to  favcr  either,  with  great  love  for  the  old 
and  trusting  confidence  in  the  new. 


The  College  in  the  Civil  War 


365 


The  College  in  the  Civil  War* 

Henry  Edward  Tremain,  '60 

and 

Charles  F.  Home,  '89 

A  BOUT  the  old  "Free  Academy,"  as  the  College  of 
■*  the  City  of  New  York  was  officially  styled, 
until  the  legislative  change  of  its  name  in  1866, 
there  was  a  something  in  the  atmosphere  inducing, 
if  not  inspiring,  individual  public  spirit  and  per- 
sonal activity  in  an  enlarged  and  intelligent  citizen- 
ship. How  this  atmosphere  was  created,  or  sustained, 
it  matters  not.  Certain  it  is  that  it  was  historically 
reflected  in  the  careers  of  large  numbers  of  graduates 
and  non-graduates  among  the  first  dozen  of  the  Free 
Academy  classes.  Perhaps  the  special  atmosphere 
sprung  from  the  fact,  then  freshly  in  mind  both  of 
students  and  instructors,  that  the  institution  itself 
came  into  being  as  the  product   of  a  popular  vote. 

*  Despite  the  labor  given  to  the  compilation  of  this  record  it  is  far 
from  complete.  Any  one  who  can  furnish  additional,  and  especially  per- 
sonal, information  as  to  the  Civil  War  record  of  any  graduate  or  non- 
graduate  student,  will  confer  a  favor  on  the  Associate  Alumni  by  com- 
municating with  Mr.  Home  at  the  College. 

367 


368  The  College  in  the  Civil  War 

Undoubtedly  there  was  much  to  encourage  this 
patriotic  spirit  in  the  course  of  instruction  pursued, 
particularly  as  it  progressed  to  the  higher  classes,  and 
entered  the  historic  realm  of  statehood  and  nationality, 
with  explanatory  and  legal  expositions,  extending  into 
the  elementary  law  of  nations. 

Indeed  the  history  and  purport,  even  to  a  memoriz- 
ing, of  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States  were  not 
omitted  in  the  instruction  given  to  some  of  those  earlier 
classes.  That  this  factor  was  not  without  its  reflection 
upon  individual  careers  is  illustrated  by  the  incident 
of  one  zealous  graduate  who  on  his  first  enlistment 
carried  in  his  knapsack  a  copy  of  the  U.  S.  Constitution, 
which  he  still  preserves  as  a  personal  relic  of  the  war 
period.  Moreover,  the  honored  president  of  the  In- 
stitution, himself  a  graduate  of  West  Point,  was  fore- 
most in  promoting  this  line  of  college  sentiment  and 
work.  Indeed  by  his  own  instruction  and  pronounced 
convictions  of  its  educational  value  he  secured  for 
himself  and  his  topics  peculiar  attention  from 
his  students.  He  believed  in  the  building  up  of 
"character." 

Through  his  personal  alliances,  too,  there  came 
occasionally  into  the  class-rooms  for  higher  mathe- 
matics eminent  military  officers  from  West  Point,  who 
were  also  instructors  and  authors,  and  whose  text-books 
were  used  at  the  United  States  Military  Academy.  It 
goes  without  saying  that  when  the  professor's  chair 
at   the  Free  Academy   about   examination   time  was 


r 


The  Yard   Looking  West. 
Twentv-second  Street  annex,  and  President  Webb's  house  on  the  left. 


369 


The  College  in  the  Civil  War 


-&- -  ~ -  J' 


relinquished  by  its  rightful  possessor  and  occupied  by 
a  gentleman  in  army  uniform,  the  picture  was  not 
without  its  impression  more  or  less  permanent  upon 
the  youthful  student. 

However  all  these  features  of  academic  life  may 
have  asserted  themselves,  certain  it  is  that  public 
life,  and  the  great  questions  of  that  day  that  engaged  it, 
furnished  by  no  means  a  silent  factor  in  the  educational 
work  of  the  old  New  York  Free  Academy.  It  is  no  won- 
der then  that  the  continental  agitation  growing  out  <  >f 
the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise  in  1854,  and 
the  Kansas-Nebraska  Bill,  and  the  Lincoln-Douglas 
debates  of  1858,  and  the  proceedings  in  Congress — 
then  more  closely  and  fully  represented  in  the  daily 
press  than  unfortunately  is  the  custom  of  to-day — 
should  find  some  reflex  in  the  ranks  of  youths  ap- 
proaching manhood;  and  approaching  it  too  with  a 
sense  of  public  duty,  more  or  less  happily  grounded 
on  some  reciprocity  for  the  privileges  afforded  by  the 
city  and  State. 

At  all  events  there  was  no  discouragement  to  this 
line  of  sentiment;  and  it  found  more  or  less  expression 
in  various  individual  developments  among  those  who 
were  tutored  within  the  walls  of  the  honored  Free 
Academy,  under  Horace  Webster,  its  esteemed  first 
president. 

Thus  possibly,  if  not  probably,  it  first  came  about 
that  the  Alumni  have  ever  been  ready  and  eager  to 
acknowledge   their  special  obligation  of  public  duty 


37 2  The  College  in  the  Civil  War 

and  patriotic  service.  The  city  of  New  York  had 
honored  them  above  other  citizens,  had  selected  them 
by  severe  tests  to  become  the  recipients  and  bene- 
ficiaries of  high  educational  training. 

If  this  be  a  debt,  these  men  have  sought  ever  to  rec- 
ognize it,  and  have  done  somewhat  to  repay  it  in  every 
walk  of  life;  some  of  them  perhaps  in  every  action 
of  their  lives.  The  broad  opportunity  came  when  the 
great  national  discussions  culminated  in  "  grim-visaged 
war."  The  outburst  of  the  terrific  struggle  of  the 
War  of  the  Rebellion  found  the  men  of  the  classes,  from 
the  class  of  1853  upwards,  youths  all  of  them,  in  the 
full  vigor  of  youthful  manhood,  read)-  and  zealous  for 
any  public  duty  that  claimed  their  intelligent  effort. 
It  is  only  fair  to  say  that  they  were  in  general  young 
men  without  special  so-called  rank,  or  wealth,  or 
family,  or  political  influence  to  speed  their  careers. 
But  they  entered  the  lists,  and  won  their  way  to  an 
honorable  death,  or  to  an  honorable  survival;  some 
with  distinction  of  rank  as  generals  and  field  officers, 
and  some  in  the  less  eminent  but  equally  honorable 
rank  of  line  officers  or  enlisted  men. 

It  has  been  found  impossible  at  this  late  day  to 
collate  a  complete  and  comprehensive  list  of  all  the 
college  names  in  the  military  service.  In  doing  as 
best  we  can.  we  may  glance  at  the  men  of  this  type  from 
the  various  classes,  beginning  with  the  earliest. 

From  the  first  class  graduated,  that  of  1853,  there 
went  to  the  front  James  R.  Steers.      He  had  already 


Senior  Mechanical  Class. 
Taken    in    the    yard    on    steps    leading    to    the    Chemical     Laboratory 
Professors    Compton    and    Fox    in    front. 


373 


The  College  in  the  Civil  War  375 

established  himself  as  a  lawyer,  but  when  in  1863 
General  Lee's  advance  into  Pennsylvania  threatened 
the  Northern  States,  as  indeed  the  very  existence  of 
the  Union,  Mr.  Steers  joined  the  Seventh  Regiment, 
N.  G.  S.  N.  Y.,  and  did  duty  with  it  as  a  private  in  the 
vicinity  of  Baltimore.  He  was  summoned  back  with 
his  regiment  to  quell  the  draft  riots  in  New  York,  and 
saw  active  service  in  that  work. 

Among  the  non-graduate  members  of  this  class 
of  '53  who  saw  service  were  General  Stephen  Weed 
and  General  Gilbert  H.  McKibbin.  Weed  was  only  at 
the  College  a  little  over  two  years.  Then  he  went  to 
West  Point  and  became  an  officer  of  the  regular  army. 
Hence  as  a  professional  soldier  he  should  rather  be 
credited  to  West  Point.  He  was  killed  at  Gettysburg, 
where  his  conduct  was  notable  and  famous.  Gen- 
eral McKibbin  remained  at  the  College  until  within 
a  few  months  of  graduation.  His  military  record  is 
well  known.  At  the  first  outbreak  of  hostilities  he 
joined  the  Seventh  Regiment  (Company  C)  as  a 
private.  In  October,  1861,  he  was  made  a  Second 
Lieutenant  in  the  U.  S.  service  and  attached  to  the 
51st  Regiment,  N.  Y.  Yols.  He  rose  to  be  Colonel  of 
this  regiment,  receiving  the  rank  Dec.  9,  1864,  but 
was  not  mustered,  as  he  had  already  (Dec.  2,  1864) 
been  commissioned  Brevet  Brigadier-General,  and  was 
assigned  to  the  command  of  a  brigade.  He  was  after- 
ward  appointed  to  command  the  sub-district  of  the 
Blackwater,  Department  of  Virginia  (May  25,   1865), 


376  The  College  in  the  Civil  War 


is 


and  was  mustered  out  of  service  Sept.  19,  1865.  Gen- 
eral McKibbin  was  engaged  in  much  of  the  fiercest 
fighting  of  the  war,  being  present  at  the  battles  of 
Roanoke  Island,  Newbern,  Second  Bull  Run,  Chantillv, 
South  Mountain,  Antietam.  Fredericksburg,  Vicksburg, 
Jackson,  Knoxville,  the  Wilderness,  Spottsylvania, 
Tolapotamoy,  Cold  Harbor,  and  Petersburg.  At 
Petersburg  he  was  severely  wounded  by  a  rifle  shot 
through  the  head.  He  was  invalided  home,  but  im- 
mediately on  recovery  returned  to  the  front,  and 
resumed  his  gallant  and  notable  service  to  our  country. 

Of  the  twenty-two  graduates  of  1854,  seven  laid 
aside  their  prosperous  civilian  careers  to  aid  the 
nation  in  its  peril.  One  of  these,  Edward  King 
Wightman,  perished  in  the  strife.  He  had  already 
won  repute  as  a  journalist  on  a  New  York  paper;  but 
at  the  first  call  to  anus  he  cast  advancement  to  the 
winds  and  entered  the  military  ranks  as  a  private  in 
Hawkins'  Zouaves  (Ninth  N.  V.  Vols.).  All  through 
the  war  he  fought,  participating  with  his  regiment  in 
no  less  than  fifteen  engagements,  rising  step  by  step  to 
be  Sergeant  Major;  and  then  in  January,  1865,  in  the 
final  successful  assault  on  Fort  Fisher,  he  won  his  way 
among  the  foremost  into  the  heart  of  the  fortress  and 
there  fell  dead,  sword  in  hand.  For  his  bravery  he  was 
brevetted  Lieutenant -Colonel. 

Also  of  this  class  of  '54  was  Rodney  G.  Kimball, 
Ph.D.,  Professor  Kimball  of  the  N.  Y.  State  Normal 
School.     He  laid  aside  his  professorship,   and   in   '62 


Flic  College  in  the  Civil  War  377 


■a 


formed  a  company,  the  "Normal  School  Company," 
of  which  he  was  made  Captain.  This  company  was 
attached  to  the  44th  N.  Y.  Vols.,  "Ellsworth's 
Avengers,'-  and  Captain  Kimball  commanded  it  at 
Fredericksburg.  In  February,  '63,  he  was  sent  home 
on  sick  leave  and  in  April  was  honorably  discharged 
for  disability  incurred  in  service. 

A  classmate  and  fellow-teacher  of  Kimball  enlisted 
as  a  member  of  his  company.  This  was  Eugene 
Douglass,  A.M.,  M.D.  Douglass  afterward  rose  to 
be  Second  Lieutenant  in  the  47th  N.  Y.  Vols,  and 
fought  at  Gettysburg,  where  a  comrade  describes  him 
as  seated  on  an  exposed  rock  shooting  away  ' '  as  if  at 
turkeys  in  a  Thanksgiving  match."  Being  urged  to 
seek  a  more  sheltered  place,  he  responded  uncon- 
cernedly, "Oh,  I  guess  I  won't  get  hit." 

Nichols  H.  Babcock  *  of  this  class  served  as  a 
private  in  the  2 2d  N.  G.  S.  N.  Y.,  during  both  its  terms 
of  service  at  the  front  in  '62  and  '63.  In  less  violent 
but  not  less  useful  service  were  Charles  B.  White, 
Robert  F.  Weir,  and  George  E.  Post.  Dr.  White 
was  commissioned  as  an  Assistant  Surgeon  in  May,  '61, 
and  served  through  the  McClellan  campaign,  and  at 
Chantilly  and  Antietam.  He  was  afterward  U.  S. 
Surgeon  at  Pittsburg,  and  for  his  services  was  bre- 
vetted  Major  in  the  U.  S.  Army  in  March,  '65.  Dr. 
Weir  had  a  similar  though  more  exciting  experience. 
He  entered  as  Assistant  Surgeon  in  the  12th  N.  Y.  S. 

*  See  Mr.  Steers's  reminiscences. 


3/8  The  College  in  the  Civil  War 


&>' 


militia  in  April,  1861,  and  was  transferred  to  the  U.  S. 
Army  service  in  August.  From  January,  1862,  till 
March,  1865,  he  was  in  charge  of  the  U.  S.  hospital  at 
Frederick,  Md.,  a  building  which  proved  a  centre  of 
military  operations.  It  was  the  base  hospital  for  the 
Shenandoah  campaign,  and  for  Antietam  and  Gettys- 
burg; and  Dr.  Weir  was  twice  made  prisoner  by  the 
Confederates. 

Dr.  Post,  whose  career  as  a  missionary  to  Syria  has 
since  made  him  widely  known,  served  as  Chaplain  to 
the  15th  N.  Y.  Vols,  in  '6i.  He  acted  also  as  a  doctor 
and  thus  saw  double  duty  through  the  campaign  of 
McClellan  and  at  Fredericksburg.  In  February,  '63,  he 
resigned  to  take  up  his  missionary  career. 

The  class  of  '55  sent  to  the  front  Walter  Brink- 
erhoff.  Hamlin  Babcock,  Elihu  D.  Church,  Thorn- 
dike  Saunders,  and  William  M.  Cole.  Mr.  Cole 
enlisted  at  the  first  call  and  fought  as  a  private  at  Bull 
Run  in  the  71st  X.  Y.  militia.  He  served  for  two  years 
and  rose  to  be  First  Lieutenant  in  the  158th  XT.  Y. 
Vols.  Hamlin  Babcock,  a  brother  of  Babcock,  '54, 
was  First  Lieutenant  of  Company  I  of  the  2 2d  X.  G. 
S.  X.  Y.  during  its  first  term  of  service  at  the  front, 
and  rose  afterwards  to  be  Captain,  taking  an  act- 
ive part  in  the  suppression  of  the  draft  riots  in 
'63.  Mr.  Saunders  was  commissioned  as  Paymaster 
(Eleventh  X.  Y.  S.  militia)  in  April,  '61.  Later  in  the 
year  he  enlisted  in  the  volunteers,  and  in  August  was 
commissioned  Captain.     He  was  honorably  discharged 


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on  the  old  College  grounds. 

The  College  in  the  Civil  War  381 


.^ 


in  February.  '62.  Mr.  Church  enlisted  in  April,  '61, 
in  the  Seventh  Regiment  (Company  I)  and  served  until 
honorably  discharged  in  July,  '63.  Mr.  Brinkerhoff 
enlisted  in  the  Ninth  N.  Y.  S.  M.  in  July,  '61,  and 
served  as  a  private  through  the  entire  war,  receiving 
his  honorable  discharge  in  June,  '65. 

From  '56  came  Dr.  John  Howe,  who  promptly  en- 
tered as  Surgeon  in  the  First  N.  Y.  Vols,  in  April,  '61. 
He  served  through  the  entire  war  until  July,  '65,  and 
rose  to  be  Brigade  Surgeon  and  Medical  Director. 
From  this  class  came  also  General  James  Lyman  Van 
Br ren  whose  career  is  here  recounted  by  his  old-time 
friend  and  classmate  Mr.  Russell  Sturgis. 


In  1852,  at  the  summer  examination  for  admission, 
James  Lyman  Van  Buren  was  admitted  to  the  Free 
Academy.  He  applied  immediately  for  advancement 
by  one  class;  and  he  and  two  other  newly-admitted 
students,  having  been  examined  in  mathematics  and 
English,  were  so  advanced.  Immediately  afterward, 
the  classes  were  rearranged  and  renamed,  and  in  this 
way  Van  Buren  found  himself  a  Freshman,  and  a 
member  of  the  class  of  1856.  After  graduation,  July, 
1856,  he  began  the  study  of  law  in  the  office  of  Charles 
Tracy,  in  New  York.  In  i860  he  travelled  in  Western 
Europe,  and  lived  for  some  months  in  Germany. 

When  the  Civil  War  began  he  was  eager  to  enter  the 
volunteer  army,  and  in  the  autumn  of  1861  he  received 
a  commission  as  Second  Lieutenant  in  a  Zouave  regi- 


382  The  College  in  the  Civil  War 

ment,  which  was  sent  immediately  with  the  expedi- 
tion to  the  coast  of  North  Carolina.  General  Burnside 
commanded  the  land  forces;  and  General  Foster  the 
brigade  in  which  Van  Buren's  regiment  was  included. 
The  forts  at  the  inlet  had  been  occupied  by  the  U.  S. 
troops  in  August;  and  the  army  landed  almost  imme- 
diately on  the  Southern  end  of  Roanoke  Island.  Van 
Buren's  private  letters,  describing  the  fight  and  the 
capture  of  the  forts,  were  printed  in  a  journal  of  the 
day,  and  were  found  a  most  spirited  and  intelligent 
account  of  the  fight.  About  this  time  the  system  of 
signalling  by  means  of  flags  was  introduced;  the  most 
intelligent  officers  were  told  off  to  study  the  method, 
and  Van  Buren  became  signal  officer  on  General 
Foster's  and  then  on  General  Burnside's  staff.  From 
that  time  on,  he  was  continually  with  General  Burn- 
side,  and  was  promoted  to  the  rank  of  Major,  and  finally 
made  Brigadier-General  by  brevet. 

In  November,  1862,  Burnside  was  made  commander 
of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  but,  during  the  two 
months  of  this  command,  Van  Buren  was  ill,  and  on 
sick  leave,  in  New  York  with  his  father's  family.  He 
joined  the  staff  again  before  Burnside  took  command 
in  East  Tennessee,  when,  in  August,  1863,  Knoxville 
was  taken  by  the  United  States  forces,  and  in  No- 
vember was  defended  against  Longs treet's  army  in  a 
memorable  siege  which  ended  in  the  relief  of  the  place 
by  Sherman  after  the  battle  of  Lookout  Mountain. 
Letters  from  Van  Buren  during  the  siege  are  full  of 


The  College  in  the  Civil  War 


j  "j 


the  interest  of  warfare  seen,  close  at  hand,  by  a  capable 
and  scholarly  observer.  But  Burnside,  in  command 
of  the  "Old  Ninth  Corps,"  came  East  with  his  staff  to 
help  in  the  final  movements  in  Virginia,  and  at  first, 
with  his  headquarters  at  Annapolis,  was  busied  with 
reorganization,  and  the  filling  up  of  his  decimated 
ranks.  It  was  May  1864,  when  Van  Buren  reached  the 
front  in  Virginia,  after  the  Battle  of  the  Wilderness. 
The  operations  of  the  Ninth  Army  Corps  were,  from  this 
time,  merged  in  those  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  and 
Van  Buren  was  able  to  join  personally  in  the  assaults 
upon  Petersburg  which  closely  preceded  the  final 
evacuation  by  Lee's  Confederate  army  of  all  their 
advanced  posts. 

The  war  was  over:  Van  Buren,  already  suffering 
with  an  increasing  languor,  evidently  the  result  of  the 
malaria  of  North  Carolina,  man}-  months  earlier,  broke 
down  altogether  in  health  when  the  life  under  canvas 
was  given  up.  He  was  confined  to  his  chamber  from 
midsummer,  1865,  to  the  beginning  of  the  following 
year,  and  died  in  New  York  in  the  early  spring  of  1866. 


In  the  class  of  '57  was  Cleveland  Abbe,  A.M., 
Ph.D.,  LL.D.,  the  esteemed  head  if  not  the  actual 
founder  of  the  U.  S.  Weather  Bureau  in  Washington. 
He  served  in  the  U.  S.  Coast  Survey  from  October, 
i860,  to  June,  1867. 

'58  contributed  to  the  service,  J.  Wesley  Pullman, 
Doctor  William   K.    Hallock,    and    Brevet    Colonel 


384  The  College  in  the  Civil  War 


&' 


Alexander  P.  Ketchum,  LL.B.  Mr.  Pullman,  whose 
long  mercantile  career  has  been  associated  with  Phila- 
delphia, served  briefly  in  the  Fifth  Pennsylvania 
Reserves,  which  were  called  to  the  field  during  the 
Antietam  campaign.  Dr.  Hallock  offered  himself  as  a 
volunteer  surgeon  at  Bull  Run  and  died  of  the  illness 
brought  on  by  exposure  and  over-exertion  in  care  of  the 
wounded. 

The  record  of  Colonel  Ketchum  extends  to  greater 
length.  Few  men  have  rendered  fuller  service  to  their 
country.  Even  before  the  war  his  vigorous  anti- 
slavery  convictions  had  brought  him  into  notice,  his 
"Senior  Address"  at  the  College  being  so  earnest  an 
exhortation  upon  this  theme  that  he  was  in  danger  of 
being  refused  his  graduation  diploma,  "because  of  his 
radicalism."  At  the  outbreak  of  the  war  Mr.  Ketchum 
was  studying  law  at  Albany;  after  receiving  admission 
to  the  bar  he  secured  an  appointment  in  1864  as  First 
Lieutenant  in  the  56th  X.  Y.  Vols.  In  May,  '65,  he 
was  appointed  Captain  in  the  128th  U.  S.  colored 
troops,  and  as  aide  to  Generals  Saxton  and  0.  O. 
Howard  he  did  important  work  in  controlling  the 
negroes  and  their  relations  to  old  landowners  and  in 
re-establishing  order  in  Georgia,  South  Carolina,  and 
Florida.  He  stood  in  the  very  midst  of  the  "recon- 
struction"' storm  and  by  resolute  discharge  of  duty 
advanced  to  the  brevet  rank  of  Colonel,  remaining  in 
the  service  until  September,   1867. 

The  class  of    59  had  among  its  members  Mr.  Re  id 


Entrance  to  the  Bridge  of  Sighs. 
Passage  from  the  main  building  to  the  annex,  Drawing  Room  stairs  to  the  left. 


3S5 


The  College  in  the  Civil  War  3^7 

Sanders,  who  served  upon  the  Confederate  side  and  be- 
came a  prisoner  of  war,  remaining  as  such  for  a  long 
time  in  a  Northern  harbor.  To  the  Union  camps  this 
class  sent  five  men.  Dr.  Benjamin  E.  Martin  served 
as  Assistant  Surgeon  in  the  Fifth  N.  Y.  Vols,  from 
April,  '61,  until  February.  '62,  when  he  resigned  and 
entered  the  U.  S.  Consular  Service  in  Germany.  Dr. 
Lockwood  De  Forest  Woodruff  rose  to  be  Surgeon 
to  the  First  Brigade,  N.  Y.  S.  X.  G.  Dr.  Abraham  W. 
Lozier  served  as  an  Assistant  Surgeon  during  Grant's 
peninsula  campaign  of  '64.  Oscar  B.  Ireland  was 
appointed  in  March,  '63,  to  be  Second  Lieutenant  in 
the  Signal  Corps,  U.  S.  Vols.,  and  was  employed  m  im- 
portant service  until  his  honorable  discharge  in  August. 
'65.  Asa  B.  Gardiner,  LL.D.,  L.H.D.,  entered  the 
U.  S.  Vol.  service  in  May,  '61,  was  appointed  First 
Lieutenant,  31st  N.  Y.  Vols.,  and  was  honorably  dis- 
charged as  Brevet  Major  in  '66.  He  has  since  served 
in  the  regular  army,  including  a  detail  as  Professor  of 
Military  Law  at  the  West  Point  Military  Academy, 
and  is  now  on  the  retired  list  with  the  rank  of  Lieuten- 
ant-Colonel. 

Among  the  non-graduate  students  of  about  this 
period  who  enlisted  were  W.  G.  Howey,  Walter  Abbe. 
and  Edward  X.  Kirk  Talcott.  Mr.  Abbe  served  as 
a  private  in  the  N.  Y.  City  Home  Guards  in  1861. 
and  in  the  37th  X*.  Y.  S.  militia  in  1862.  Mr.  Howey 
enlisted  in  '61  as  First  Sergeant  in  the  Sixth  X.  Y. 
Cavalry.     He  was  made  prisoner  and  kept   in   Libby 


388  The  College  in  the  Civil  War 

Prison  for  over  a  year,  contracting  malaria  from  which 
he  finally  died.  Mr.  Talcott.  a  member  of  the  Seventh 
regiment,  went  to  the  front  with  his  regiment.  He  was 
soon  appointed  a  captain  in  the  volunteer  Engineer 
Corps,  and  served  throughout  the  war,  acting  on  the 
staffs  of  Gen.  Gilmore  and  Gen.  Meade. 

The  class  of  i860,  young  and  eager,  gave  fourteen 
of  its  graduates  to  the  war,  beside  several  non-graduate 
students.  The  alumni  who  served  as  privates  were 
Samuel  G.  Adams,  Byrox  E.  Chollar,  Hexry  L. 
Hardt,  Stephen  B.  Hyatt,  Herbert  G.  Torrey, 
and  Edgar  Ketchum;  the  latter,  although  not  a 
swimmer,  was  one  of  a  few  fortunate  survivors  who 
made  their  way  through  the  breakers  from  a  wreck 
off  Hatteras.  Oscar  G.  Voute  and  William  Ells- 
worth (13th  X.  V.  Vols.,  7)2-'63),  non-graduates,  also 
served  as  privates  in  the  Union  army.  Francis 
Markoe  was  from  a  Maryland  family,  and  he  fought 
against  the  Union  side,  rising  from  a  private  in  the 
First  Maryland  Regiment  (May,  '61),  to  be  a  Cap- 
tain and  staff-officer  in  the  Confederate  service. 
He  was  wounded  in  '62  and  lost  the  use  of  one  arm;  he 
was  included  in  the  surrender  at  Appomattox.  Dr. 
William  Thurman  was  acting  Assistant  Surgeon  at 
Fortress  Monroe  in  May,  '62,  and  was  commissioned 
Assistant  Surgeon  Fifth  X.  Y.  S.  N.  G.  in  July,  '64. 
Frederick  Hobart  enlisted  in  the  Second  N.  J.  S. 
militia,  in  April,  '61,  and  afterward  in  the  XTinth  X.  J. 
Vols.     He  rose  from  the  ranks  to  be  Sergeant,  Lieu- 


The  College  in  the  Civil  War  389 

tenant,  and  then  Captain  in  his  regiment.  Four  times 
he  was  wounded  in  battle,  at  Roanoke  Island  and 
again  at  Goldsboro  in  '62,  at  Conuto  Swamp,  N.  C,  in 
'63,  and  at  Walthall  Junction,  Va.,  in  '64.  In  a  still 
later  skirmish  Hobart  had  a  bullet  plough  a  furrow 
through  his  hair,  leaving  him  practically  untouched. 
Disability  resulting  from  his  wounds  finally  compelled 
his  resignation  in  October,  '64. 

Less  fortunate  than  Captain  Hobart  in  his  narrow 
escapes  were  four  members  of  the  class  who  perished 
in  the  war.  The  earliest  of  these  to  die  was  William 
Cullen  Bryant  Gray,  a  relative  of  the  poet  after 
whom  he  was  named.  Gray  was  studying  for  the 
ministry,  and  had  also,  even  in  his  undergraduate 
days,  won  repute  in  literature.  At  the  call  of  his 
country,  however,  he  laid  aside  his  own  career  and 
entered  the  army  as  First  Lieutenant  in  the  Fourth 
N.  Y.  Heavy  Artillery.  His  brief  service  at  the  front 
resulted  in  pneumonia,  and  he  died  at  Washington 
January  1,  1863.  On  his  grave  is  carven  a  sentence 
from  one  of  his  own  letters  home:  "  I  do  not  fear  the 
battlefield,  for  I  look  beyond  it  to  the  delights  of 
heaven." 

Charles  Clarence  Tracy  Keith  came  of  a  South 
Carolina  family;  but  so  passionately  had  he  become 
devoted  to  the  anti-slavery  cause  that  he  abandoned 
the  profession  of  law  sooner  than  as  a  lawver  swear 
allegiance  to  the  United  States  Constitution,  which 
permitted  slavery.     At  the  celebrated  New  York  "  war 


39°  The  College  in  the  Civil  War 


meeting"  held  in  Union  Square  in  April,  '6i,  Keith 
sprang  suddenly  into  fame  as  the  "boy  orator"  who 
swept  the  vast  crowd  away  with  him  in  his  impassioned 
plea  for  action,  and  freedom  for  the  slaves.  The  orator 
confirmed  his  own  devotion  by  enlisting  in  the  ranks. 
He  was  soon  transferred  to  the  Signal  Service,  and 
rose  to  ba  First  Lieutenant  in  the  Signal  Corps  (March, 
'63).  While  on  duty  at  Plymouth,  N.  C,  he  was 
thrown  from  his  horse.  His  head  struck  upon  a  stone, 
and  his  brain  was  so  injured  that,  after  lingering 
for  nearly  a  year  in  hopeless  misery,  he  died  in  April, 
1864. 

More  fortunate,  as  men  count  fortune,  was  Frank- 
lin Butler  Crosby,  for  he  died  suddenly  in  battle. 
In  August,  1 86 1,  he  was  commissioned  Second  Lieu- 
tenant in  the  Fourth  U.  S.  Artillery.  He  rose  to  be 
First  Lieutenant,  and  in  the  great  fight  of  Chancellors- 
ville  he  was  in  command  of  his  batter}'.  A  fellow- 
alumnus  tells  of  seeing  Crosby  on  the  second  morning 
of  the  battle  and  calling  to  the  youthful  commander 
in  protest  at  the  danger  to  which  he  exposed  himself. 
Crosby  was  on  horseback  beside  his  guns  directing  their 
fire.  A  splendid  giant  in  physique,  he  offered  too 
fair  a  mark  and  a  bullet  pierced  his  breast.  His  own 
men  carried  him  a  few  rods  to  the  rear.  'Tell  mother 
I  die  happy,"  said  he,  and  his  life  was  over.  His 
parting  words  became  the  burden  of  a  war-song  among 
his  comrades;  and  a  relative,  the  poet  William  Allen 
Butler,  wrote  of  him  the  following  lines : 


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The  College  in  the  Civil  War  393 

He  was  our  noblest,  he  was  our  bravest  and  best! 

Tell  me  the  post  that  the  bravest  ever  have  filled. 
The  front  of  the  fighl  '      It  was  his.     For  the  rest — 

Read  the  list  of  the  killed. 

On  the  crown  of  the  ridge,  where  the  sulphurous  crest 
Of  the  battle  wave  broke,  in  its  thunder  and  flame, 

While  his  country's  badge  throbbed  with  each  beat  of  his  breast, 
He  faced  death  when  it  came. 

His  battery  planted  in  front,  the  Brigadier  cried, 

"  Who  commands  it?"  as  fiercely  the  foe  charged  that  way, 

Then  how  proudly  our  gallant  Lieutenant  replied, 
"I  command  it  to-day!" 

There  he  stood  by  his  guns;  stout  heart,  noble  form; 

Home  and  its  cherished  ones  never,  never  so  dear. 
Round  him  the  whirlwind  of  battle,  through  the  wild  storm, 

Duty  never  so  clear. 

Duty,  the  life  of  his  life,  his  sole  guiding  star. 

The  best  joy  of  his  being,  the  smile  that  she  gave, 

Her  call  the  music  by  which  he  marched  to  the  war, 
Marched  to  a  soldier's  grave. 

Too  well  aimed,  with  its  murderous,  demonlike  hiss, 
To  his  heart,  the  swift  shot  on  its  errand  has  flown — 

Call  it  rather  the  burning,  impetuous  kiss 
With  which  Fame  weds  her  own! 

There  he  fell  on  the  field,  the  flag  waving  above, 
Faith  blending  with  joy  in  his  last  parting  breath, 

To  his  Saviour  his  soul,  to  his  country  the  love 
That  was  stronger  than  death. 


394  The  College  in  the  Civil  War 

Ah,  how  sadly,  without  him,  we  go  on  our  wav, 

Speaking  softer  the  name  that  has  dropped  from  our  prayers, 
But  as  we  tell  the  tale  to  our  children  to-day, 

They  shall  tell  it  to  theirs. 

He  is  our  hero,  ever  immortal  and  young, 

With  her  martyrs  his  land  clasps  him  now  to  her  breast, 
And  with  theirs  his  loved  name  shall  be  honored  and  sung, 

Still  our  bravest  and  best! 

Also  of  the  class  of  '60  was  Edward  Francis 
Young.  He  had  been,  in  College,  the  leader,  the 
valedictorian,  of  his  class.  His  brilliancy  seemed  to 
all  who  knew  him  to  assure  him  a  wonderful  career. 
Moreover  when  graduated  he  was  already  married. 
Although  a  young  father,  the  call  to  arms  induced  him 
to  enlist.  He  was  made  Captain  in  the  Fourth  N.  Y. 
Heavy  Artillery  (June,  '62)  and  rose  rapidly  to  the 
rank  of  Major.  The  fort  where  he  was  stationed  in  the 
fall  of  '63  was  near  Washington.  Here,  while  he  was 
making  a  night  tour  of  inspection,  his  horse  tripped  and 
fell  upon  him.  The  young  Major  was  so  cruelly  crushed 
that  death  came  to  him  as  a  relief  (Dec.  22,  '63). 
His  funeral  and  burial  in  Greenwood  Cemetery, 
Brooklyn,  were  attended  with  the  full  military  honors 
due  to  his  rank. 

Such  were  the  deaths  by  which  the  class  of  i860  paid 
the  debt  of  the  education  which  its  members  owed  to 
their  country.  High  army  rank  was  also  attained  by 
a  non-graduate,  Charles  McLean  Knox,  who  in 
November,  '61,  was  commissioned  Major  in  the  Ninth 


The  College  in  the  Civil  War  395 


'S 


X.    Y.    Cavalry.     lie    was    honorably    discharged    in 
January,  '64. 

( )f  all  the  members  of  this  heroic  class  the  one  wh<  »se 
military  career  carried  him  highest  in  official  rank  was 
Henry  Edwin  Tremain.  Entering  the  army  as  a 
private  in  the  Seventh  Regiment  N.  Y.  militia,  in  '61, 
he  was  commissioned  First  Lieutenant  in  the  73d  N.  Y. 
in  August.  In  November  '62,  he  was  made  Captain, 
and  in  April  '63,  Major  and  Aide-de-Camp.  In  March, 
'65,  he  was  brevetted  Lieutenant-Colonel,  in  June, 
Colonel,  and  finally  in  November,  '65,  he  received  his 
brevet  as  Brigadier-General.  General  Tremain  by  his 
own  efforts  recruited  a  company  for  the  Second  Fire 
Zouaves  (or  73d,  N.  Y.  Vols.);  and  won  his  way  from 
private  to  brevet  Brigadier-General  by  arduous  service 
through  four  years  of  war. 

He  served  a  year  in  the  line,  and  afterwards  on  the 
staff;  being  promoted  from  the  "Excelsior  Brigade" 
staff  successively  to  Division,  to  Corps,  and  to  Army 
of  the  Potomac  Headquarters.  By  the  consolidation 
1  [864)  of  the  Third  Army  Corps  he  was  temporarilv 
rendered  a  supernumerary;  but  his  volunteered  services 
for  field  duty  elsewhere  were  promptly  accepted.  He 
participated  in  many  campaigns,  battles,  and  skir- 
mishes, including  the  great  engagements  at  Williams- 
burg, Fair  Oaks,  and  Malvern  Hill  in  the  Peninsula 
campaign  under  McClellan,  at  Bristoe  and  Manassas 
under  Pope,  at  Fredericksburg  under  Burnside, 
at    Chancellorsville    under    Hooker,    and    at    Gettvs- 


396  The  College  in  the  Civil  War 

burg  under  Meade,  where  he  was  senior  aid-de-camp 
to  General  Sickles,  commanding  Third  Corps.  After 
an  inspecting  tour  to  all  the  Union  forces  in  the 
West  and  South,  including  a  brief  service  in  Sherman's 
Atlanta  campaign,  General  (then  Major)  Tremain 
while  in  front  of  Petersburg  joined  the  Headquar- 
ters of  the  Cavalry  Corps,  and  there  continued  to 
serve  under  Generals  McGregor,  Gregg,  George  Crook, 
and  Sheridan,  during  the  campaign  and  battles  ter- 
minating with  the  surrender  at  Appomattox.  After 
the  disbandment  of  the  Cavalry  Corps  he  was  ordered 
on  Reconstruction  duty  in  the  Carolinas;  until  finally 
at  his  own  request  he  was  mustered  out  of  the  army 
April  20th,  1866,  five  years  after  enlisting  as  a  private 
soldier  April  19th,  1861.  He  was  frequently  com- 
mended in  the  official  reports  of  his  Generals,  fell  a 
prisoner  in  a  countercharge  at  the  second  Bull  Run 
battle,  experienced  the  hospitalities  (?)  of  Libby  Prison, 
and  for  "distinguished  gallantry"  in  battle  at  Resaca, 
Georgia,  was  awarded  the  Congressional  "Medal  of 
Honor." 

Turn  now  to  the  class  of  '61.  These  young  men 
had  not  yet  finished  their  schooling  when  Sumter  was 
fired  on.  Hence  few  of  them  were,  like  the  men  of  '60, 
among  the  first  to  enlist,  nor  did  they  attain  to  such 
advanced  military  rank.  Yet  ultimately  twenty  of 
them  found  place  in  the  roll  of  our  country's  defenders. 
Of  these,  eight  were  content  to  serve  as  privates. 
Their  names,    inscribed  upon  our  roll  of   honor,   are 


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The  College  in  the  Civil  War  399 

Theodore  G.  Ascough,  Charles  P.  Kirklakd,  who 
enlisted  in  April,  '61,  in  the  71st  X.  Y.  S.  M.,  William 
C.  Kimball  and  Edwix  F.  Hyde,  now  vice-president 
of  the  Central  Trust  Co.,  X.  Y.,  both  of  whom  served 
fnun  May  to  September,  '62,  in  the  226.  X.  V.  Infantry, 
James  H.  Pullman  and  Frederick  J.  Slade,  both  also 
in  the  226.  X.  Y.  S.  M.  in  '62,  Roland  G.  Mitchell,  a 
member  of  the  Seventh  N.  Y.  militia  in  Company  K., 
and  David  J.  Starkly,  who  served  in  the  Thirteenth 
N.  Y.  Cavalry  from  '62  to  '65.  Among  the  non-grad- 
uates of  this  class  was  another  private,  Francis  Hull 
Cowdrey,  recently  deceased  at  the  Soldiers'  Home 
in  Hampton,  Va. 

George  Roberts  rose  to  be  Orderly  Sergeant  of  the 
Ninth  X.  Y.  Infantry;  and  Edwin  M.  Cox  to  be  Color 
Sergeant  in  the  37th  N.  G.  S.  X.  Y.,  in  which  rank  he 
served  with  the  militia  column  co-operating  with  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  during  the  Gettysburg  cam- 
paign. Lawrence  Kiernan  was  appointed  secretary 
to  General  Thomas  Francis  Meagher,  and  was  com- 
missioned a  Second  Lieutenant,  but  did  not  serve. 
William  West  held  a  Lieutenant's  rank  in  the 
176th  X.  Y.  Infantry.  David  D.  Terry  was  com- 
missioned Captain  of  Company  E,  176th  N.  Y.  S. 
Vols,  in  September,  '62.  He  served  in  Louisiana  until 
Xovember,  '63,  and  was  honorably  discharged.  Fred- 
erick H.  Max  rose  to  be  Captain  and  afterward  Brevet 
Major.  Alfred  H.  Taylor  became  clerk  of  a  depot 
of  volunteers  in  X.  Y.  Citv  in  1861,  and  in  1862  sec- 


400  The  College  in  the  Civil  War 

retary  to  General  Hillhouse  at  Albany.  He  rose  to  be 
Acting  Assistant  Adjutant-General  of  N.  Y.  with  the 
rank  of  Major;  and  in  later  years  was  Assistant  Ad- 
jutant-General with  rank  of  Colonel.  His  services  as  an 
organizer  of  the  vast  army  of  N.  Y.  volunteers  were 
of  sterling  value,  though  his  only  active  military  service 
during  the  war  was  in  connection  with  the  draft  riots 
in  Xew  York. 

Among  the  commissioned  officers  of  '61  in  more 
strictly  warlike  service,  was  Lieutenant  Henry  C. 
Selvage.  Immediately  on  graduating  from  the  Col- 
lege he  aided  in  raising  a  X.  Y.  State  regiment,  the 
McClellan  Infantry,  and  was  appointed  one  of  its 
First  Lieutenants.  This  regiment  was  incorporated 
with  another;  and  Mr.  Selvage,  beginning  his  re- 
cruiting work  again,  helped  form  another  compar- 
and in  February,  '62.  was  commissioned  Second 
Lieutenant  in  the  87th  X.  Y.  Vols.  He  served  with 
his  regiment  in  McClellan's  campaign,  fought  at 
Williamsburg  and  Fair  Oaks,  and  in  the  latter  battle 
was  wounded  in  the  hip.  Invalided  home,  he  recom- 
menced his  recruiting  work,  and  in  1864  was  appointed 
First  Lieutenant  of  U.  S.  colored  troops,  but  the  war 
was  practically  at  an  end  before  he  had  an  opportunity 
to  serve  in  his  new  rank  so  he  resigned.  He  was  after- 
ward brevetted  First  Lieutenant  of  N.  Y.  S.  Vols. 

William  H.  Sanger  immediately  after  graduating 
enlisted  as  a  private  in  the  First  X.  Y.  Mounted  Rifles. 
He  was  commissioned  Second  Lieutenant  of  his  com- 


The  College  in  the  Civil  War  401 


'& 


pany  in  November,  '61 ,  First  Lieutenant  in  December, 
and  Captain  in  August,  '62.  For  three  years  he  saw- 
active  service  in  Virginia,  commanded  the  advance 
guard  at  the  capture  of  Norfolk  when  the  "  Merrimac" 
was  blown  up,  and  was  the  first  Union  soldier  to  enter 
the  city.  In  '64  he  went  through  the  Shenandoah 
campaign  as  Captain  in  the  Second  N.  Y.  Cavalry  under 
General  Custer.  He  was  twice  wounded  by  bullets  and 
once  with  sabre,  and  was  once  captured  by  the  enemy, 
but  escaped  on  the  same  day.  He  resigned  from  the 
service  in  May,   1865. 

Hon.  William  H.  Wiley,  Representative  from 
New  Jersey  in  the  59th  Congress,  enlisted  as  a 
private  in  the  Seventh  Regiment,  militia,  and  was 
afterward  commissioned  First  Lieutenant  in  the  N.  Y. 
S.  Vols.  (Company  I,  Independent  Battalion)  and  set 
to  the  work  of  recruiting.  In  June,  '62.  he  was  ordered 
to  active  service  in  Virginia.  He  was  transferred  to 
the  artillery  and  took  part  in  the  expedition  against 
Charleston  in  1863,  was  commissioned  Captain  (March, 
'63),  and  put  in  command  of  tw-o  companies  of  artillery 
during  the  bombardment  of  Fort  Wagner.  The  ex- 
tremely youthful  Captain  was  not  yet  twenty-one,  and 
when  the  consolidation  of  regiments  that  followed  on 
the  capture  of  Fort  Wagner  threw  him  temporarily  out 
of  service,  he  returned  to  his  professional  studies. 
He  was  graduated  as  a  civil  engineer  in  '66,  and  in  the 
interim  was  brevetted  Major  for  his  services  at 
Charleston. 


402  The  College  in  the  Civil  War 

Even  more  striking  was  the  career  of  Gilbert 
Elliott,  the  ablest  student  of  the  class,  whose  untimely 
end  is  here  narrated  bv  his  brother  Richmond  Elliott. 


Colonel  Gilbert  Molleson  Elliott,  class  of  1861,  son 
of  Jason  and  Ruth  B.  Elliott,  was  born  in  Thompson, 
Conn.,  October  7,  1840. 

His  career  in  the  City  College  was  marked  by  more 
triumphs  than  have  fallen  to  the  lot  of  any  other  of 
her  students. 

Entering  the  Introductory  class  in  February,  1857, 
from  Dr.  Thomas  Hunter's  famous  "No.  35,"  he  at 
once  took  the  front  rank,  and  maintained  it  during  his 
entire  course.  During  this  his  first  term,  he  came 
within  two  marks  of  the  maximum,  and  even  this 
extraordinary  record  he  excelled  in  his  first  Senior 
term,  when  he  achieved  the  unparalleled  distinction  of 
obtaining  maximum  for  term  and  examination! 

At  four  successive  commencements  he  was  awarded 
the  Pell  gold  medal,  the  highest  prize  in  the  gift  of  the 
faculty.  At  his  own  commencement  he  was  awarded 
not  only  the  Pell  medal,  but  also  the  Burr  gold  medal 
for  excellence  in  mathematics,  the  Cromwell  gold 
medal  for  excellence  in  history  and  belles-lettres,  and 
six  Ward  bronze  medals  for  marked  excellence  in  as 
many  subjects. 

Devoted  as  he  was  to  his  studies,  he  was  none  the 
less  patriotic.  Immediately  following  the  attack  on 
Fort    Sumter,   April,    1861,   he   borrowed  a  flag  from 


The  College  in  the  Civil  War  4°3 


6 


Captain  Ward,  commandant  of  the  Brooklyn  Navy 
Yard,  to  be  raised  on  the  College. 

In  an  enthusiastic  and  earnest  speech  at  the  cere- 
monies of  unfurling  the  flag  (the  first  to  be  raised  on 
any  institution  in  this  city)  he  said,  "I  am  willing  to 
offer  up  my  life  in  defence  of  my  country." 

After  his  graduation,  abandoning  his  intention  of 
studying  law,  he  at  once  gave  himself  to  the  work  of 
recruiting,  and  in  October,  1861,  he  was  mustered  into 
the  United  States  service,  as  First  Lieutenant  in  the 
io2d  Regiment,  N.  Y.  Volunteers.  In  March,  1862,  with 
his  regiment  he  went  to  the  seat  of  war.  The  young 
officer  brought  to  the  discharge  of  his  military  duties 
the  same  ardor  and  mental  energy  that  had  so  signally 
distinguished  him  in  his  college  career.  He  was 
specially  commended  for  conspicuous  gallantry  and 
braver}'  at  the  battle  of  Antietam  and  was  advanced 
to  a  captaincy.  His  rare  intellectual  and  executive 
ability  attracted  the  attention  of  Brigadier-General 
John  W.  Geary,  commanding  the  2d  Division  of  the 
12th  Army  Corps,  who  requested  his  assignment  to  the 
position  of  ordnance  officer  on  his  Staff.  In  this 
position  of  increased  responsibility  he  won  the  com- 
mendation of  his  superior  officers.  In  the  memorable 
battles  of  Fredericksburg,  Chancellors ville,  and  Gettys- 
burg, he  had  provided  necessary  ordnance  supplies 
not  only  for  his  own  division,  but  he  was  able  to  fill 
requisitions  for  other  division  commanders. 

After  the  battle  of  Gettysburg,  upon  the  recom- 


404  The  College  in  the  Civil  War 

mendation  of  Generals  Geary  and  Hooker,  for  mer- 
itorious services,  he  was  made  Major  in  his  regiment. 
Before  retiring  from  his  position  as  ordnance  officer  to 
take  command  of  his  battalion  in  the  io2d  N.  Y.  Vols., 
the  Adjutant-General  of  his  division,  on  behalf  of 
General  Geary,  wrote  him  as  follows: 

The  General  commanding,  desires  me  to  convey  to  you, 
on  leaving  his  staff  for  a  more  extended  sphere  of  duty,  his  warm 
appreciation  of  the  ability  and  untiring  energy  with  which  you 
performed  the  arduous  duties  of  your  late  position,  and  to  thank 
you  therefor.  He  tenders  you  his  best  wishes  for  your  success 
in  your  new  field  of  action  in  the  great  cause,  and  trusts  that 
your  present  advancement  is  but  the  beginning  of  an  elevation 
such  as  you  deserve  and  will  undoubtedly  secure.  On  behalf 
of  the  General  Staff,  I  have  to  express  our  regret  at  parting 
with  you,  and  to  hope  that  the  fraternal  relations  so  long 
existing  between  us,  may  not  be  disturbed  by  your  separating 
from  us. 

In  September,  1863,  the  nth  and  12th  Army  Corps 
under  General  Hooker  were  transferred  to  Tennessee  to 
reinforce  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland.  On  Nov.  24, 
at  the  desperate  battle  of  Lookout  Mountain,  Geary's 
division  of  Hooker's  Corps  was  in  the  first  line  of  battle. 
Major  Elliott  with  the  advanced  line  of  skirmishers 
while  climbing  the  steep  ascent  of  the  mountain  fell 
mortally  wounded  by  a  rebel  sharp-shooter.  In  a  few 
moments  as  gallant  and  intrepid  an  officer  as  ever 
drew  the  sword  had  poured  out  his  young  life's  blood 
for  his  country.  Fully  cognizant  of  his  approaching 
end,  he  said  to  the  surgeon,  "Tell  my  family  I  died 


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The  College  in  the  Civil  War  407 

a  brave  man.*'  His  commanding  general  says  of  him, 
"He  fell  nobly  leading  the  skirmishers.  He  has  died 
the  death  of  a  brave  soldier,  gallantly  fighting  for  his 
country." 

His  patriotism  was  not  of  that  kind  assumed  for 
honor  or  distinction  merely,  as  is  evident  from  an 
extract  from  one  of  his  letters  to  his  family  just  after  the 
Gettysburg  campaign.  "It  is  little  I  can  do  towards 
helping  my  country  in  her  hour  of  peril,  but  what 
I  can,  I  will  do  cheerfully,  even  though  it  cost  me  my 
life.  If  I  live  to  see  the  end  of  the  war,  I  should  be 
ashamed  of  my  name,  had  not  some  member  of  my 
family  helped  put  down  the  rebellion." 

In  recognition  of  his  distinguished  services  and 
heroic  death,  the  posthumous  ranks  of  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  and  Colonel  were  conferred  upon  him  by 
President  Johnson. 

His  remains  are  interred  in  the  family  plot  at 
Woodlawn. 

To  this  sketch  might  be  added  that  Colonel  Elliott 
was  descended  from  a  patriotic  family.  His  great- 
great-grandfather  was  a  Captain  in  Putnam's  regi- 
ment, and  lost  his  life  at  the  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill. 
It  might  not  be  amiss  to  add  that  Colonel  Elliott's 
nephew  and  namesake,  a  graduate  of  the  class  of 
1886,  and  the  first  son  of  an  alumnus  to  be  graduated, 
served  in  the  late  Spanish  war  in  the  capacity  of 
surgeon  in  the  First  Maine  Infantry. 


4o8  The  College  in  the  Civil  War 


& 


With  the  class  of  '62  we  approach  still  younger  men. 
Yet  twelve  of  these  mere  lads  saw  service.  As  privates 
there  were  Augustus  Rexier  Adams,  Wilsox  Berry- 
max,  Kxox  McAfee,  Nathax  Roberts,  James  David- 
son (non-graduate),  and  William  E.  Slocum.  It  was 
Mr.  Slocum  who  came  home  on  furlough  and  grad- 
uated in  the  uniform  of  his  regiment  (71st  X.  Y.  S. 
militia).  On  the  college  commencement  programme 
of  '62  appeared  a  notice:  "Messrs.  Brower,  McAfee, 
and  Slocum  are  absent  at  the  seat  of  war  serving  their 
country.  They  would  if  present  be  entitled  to  speak 
on  this  occasion."  Mr.  Slocum,  unexpectedly  ful- 
filling the  obviously  necessary  condition,  appeared 
ii]  ion  the  platform  when  another's  name  was  called  and 
despite  President  Webster's  rather  doubtful  approval 
delivered  an  address  amid  great  applause. 

John  L.  Brower  rose  to  be  Captain  and  Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel of  volunteers.  David  E.  Brekes  was 
an  Acting  Assistant  Surgeon  on  the  field  and  at  Fortress 
Monroe  and  helped  succor  the  released  prisoners  from 
Andersonville.  James  Matthews  Trippe  rose  to  be 
Lieutenant-Colonel  of  the  24th  U.  S.  colored  troops  in 
March,  '65.  Charles  Roberts  was  commissioned 
Second  Lieutenant  in  the  Signal  Corps  in  1863  and 
served  in  Virginia,  South  Carolina,  and  Georgia  until 
mustered  out  of  service  in  August,  '65.  Otho 
Michaelis,  the  valedictorian  of  his  class,  enlisted  as  a 
private  in  the  23d  N.  G.  S.  X.  Y.  In  September,  '63, 
he   was  appointed   Second   Lieutenant    in   the   Signal 


The  College  in  the  Civil  War  409 


'& 


Corps  and  in  November  was  transferred  to  the  (  hrdnance 
Cor])S.  He  saw  field  service  in  the  Gettysburg  cam- 
paign, and  in  Tennessee  as  Chief  of  Ordnance  on  Gen- 
eral Thomas'  staff,  being  not  yet  twenty-one.  In 
September,  '64,  he  was  promoted  to  be  a  First  Lieu- 
tenant in  the  regular  army,  and  in  March,  '65,  was 
brevetted  Captain.  Remaining  in  the  service  after 
the  war,  he  rose  to  the  rank  of  Major  before  his  death. 

Richard  Polk  Strong  of  this  same  class  enlisted 
as  a  private  in  Company  H  of  the  71st  N.  V.  S.  M.  in 
April,  '61.  He  returned  to  the  College  for  his  final 
year  and  then  in  September,  '62,  was  commissioned 
Second  Lieutenant.  139th  N.  Y.  Infantry.  Through 
the  winter  of  '62  he  was  in  active  service  in  Virginia 
and  then  (June.  '63)  received  his  appointment  as  First 
Lieutenant  in  the  Signal  Corps.  He  was  made  a 
member  and  then  president  of  the  examining  board  for 
commissions  in  this  newly  organized  corps.  In  '64, 
he  served  at  the  siege  of  Petersburg  and  in  the  mem- 
orable cavalry  raid  through  Florida  and  Alabama. 
In  March.  '65.  he  was  made  brevet  Captain  and  Major 
of  volunteers.  Remaining  in  the  regular  service  after 
the  war,  he  was  later  assigned  to  the  artillerv,  and  rose 
to  be  Lieutenant-Colonel. 

The  class  of  '63  sent  to  the  war  onlv  three  of  its 
graduates,  Hexry  Smith  Steele,  who  as  a  private  in 
the  Seventh  Militia  Regiment  took  part  in  the  sup- 
pression of  the  draft  riots,  Abraham  Kipp  Van  Vleck, 
who  was  commissioned  Captain  in  the  io2d  X.  Y.  Vols., 


4io  The  College  in  the  Civil  War 


j? 


and  H.  Raymond  Howland,  who  served  as  Com- 
missary Clerk  with  General  Butler's  command  in 
Virginia.  Being,  like  his  predecessors  of  '62,  ab- 
sent at  the  seat  of  war  Howland  was  deprived  of  the 
pleasure  of  delivering  his  "Honorary  Oration"  at 
commencement. 

Of  youths  of  this  period  who  did  not  wait  to  com- 
plete the  college  course,  but  left  studies  unfinished 
and  courses  incomplete,  to  serve  the  nation,  there  were 
several.  William  C.  Abbe  enlisted  three  separate 
times.  From  June  to  September,  '62,  he  was  in  the 
37th  X.  G.  S.  X.  Y.  In  1863  he  enlisted  for  a 
month,  and  was  wounded  in  the  neck  in  a  skirmish 
at  Carlisle,  Pa.  Later  in  the  year  he  secured  a  com- 
mission as  Lieutenant  of  U.S.  colored  troops  and  served 
at  Ship  Island  and  in  the  capture  of  Mobile,  receiving 
his  honorable  discharge  in  '65.  Charles  Henry  O'Con- 
nor, enlisting  as  a  private  in  the  22d  X.  Y.  Infantry  in 
'62,  rose  to  be  Second  Lieutenant  in  the  2d  R.  I.  In- 
fantry i.March,  '631  and  served  on  the  staff  of  General 
Wheaton.  He  resigned  in  July,  '63.  Appleton 
Sturgis  served  as  First  Lieutenant  and  Aide-de- 
Camp.  Henry  Walton  Grinnell  entered  the  navy. 
He  was  appointed  Acting  Ensign  in  November,  '62, 
rose  to  be  Acting  Master  in  January,  '64,  and  Acting 
Lieutenant  in  May,  '65.  Richard  3.  Greenwood,  who 
was  studying  with  the  class  of  '64,  enlisted  in  the  22d 
X.  Y.  militia  as  early  as  '61.  John  T.  Xagle  of  the 
same  class  served  as  Acting  Assistant  Surgeon  from 


The   "  Colleoe   Mercury"   Editorial   Room. 
A  gloom  v  den  on  the  ground  floor  of  the  Twentv-second  Street  building. 


lit 


The  College  in  the  Civil  War  4' 3 


& 


Mav,  1864,  to  June,  1865.  He  was  commended  for 
conspicuous  bravery  in  action  in  the  battle  of  Kerns- 
town,  Va.,  and  was  commissioned  Assistant  Surgeon  in 
1865. 

Of  graduate  members  the  class  of  '64  sent  only 
two  men  to  the  front.  A.  Ouackenbush,  Jr.,  served 
as  a  clerk  in  the  Ordnance  Department  at  Chattanooga 
from  September,  '64,  to  January,  '65.  John  Abbott 
Clarkson  enlisted  in  the  ranks  immediately  on  grad- 
uation. He  was  soon  made  a  clerk  in  the  Ordnance 
service,  but  had  already  contracted  a  camp  fever  at 
Chattanooga,  and  he  died  in  hospital. 

Younger  still,  the  last  victim  of  a  tragic  record  was 
Edward  Sturgis.  A  student  in  the  class  of  '65,  he 
left  college  in  February,  '64,  having  secured  his  com- 
mission as  First  Lieutenant  in  the  20th  Mass.  Infantry. 
He  was  killed  in  action,  May  10,  1864. 


The   Literary  Societies  of  the 
College 


415 


The  Literary  Societies  of  the 
College 

Edward  M.  Colie,  '73 

A  LARGE  part  of  the  traditions  and  reminiscences 
associated  with  the  old  college  building  are 
intimately  connected  with  the  history  of  the  two 
literary  societies,  which  practically  began  with  the 
life  of  the  College,  and  many  phases  of  their  develop- 
ment throw  interesting  light  on  the  conditions  at  the 
institution  during  the  early  days.  Nearly  all  of  the 
older  Alumni  have  been  members  either  of  Clionia  or 
Phrenocosmia,  and  a  large  number  of  the  students  who 
have  not  taken  a  degree,  for  some  term  of  their  college 
life  enjoyed  their  benefits,  and  all  cherish  the  memory 
of  the  days  of  their  membership  as  among  the  most 
interesting  and  helpful  of  their  student  life.  On  their 
rolls  are  the  distinguished  Alumni  who  have  brought 
honor  to  Alma  Mater.  A  special  interest  is  to  be  found 
in  the  fact  that  these  societies  were  no  part  of  the 
institution  as  planned  by  its  founders.  They  were  not 
ordained   by   the  faculty,   but   were   the   spontaneous 

417 


418      The  Literary  Societies  of  the  College 

expression  of  a  felt  need  by  the  students  of  something 
to  supplement  the  prescribed  course  of  study,  and  to 
deepen  the  sense  of  comradeship  and  create  a  college 
spirit.  Their  persistence,  prosperity,  and  usefulness 
for  these  many  years  indicate  that  they  represent  and 
express  ideas  and  ideals  that  are  lasting. 

The  Free  Academy  opened  its  doors  January  15, 
1849.  Students  were  admitted  from  the  schools  every 
six  months,  the  first  class  entering  February,  1840,  and 
in  the  autumn  of  185 1  six  classes  had  been  received, 
each  called  after  the  letters  of  the  alphabet,  the  oldest 
designated  "A,"  in  accordance  with  the  plan  at  West 
Point,  from  which  the  Academy  adopted  many  ideas 
besides  its  mathematical  course.  With  a  free  field, 
without  traditions,  without  precedent  or  experience  to 
guide  them,  with  no  bond  of  union  between  the  different 
classes,  the  students  conceived  the  idea  that  the  classes 
could  be  best  united  and  a  college  sentiment  developed 
by  the  foundation  of  a  literary  society  constituted  of 
the  members  of  all  classes.  Clionia,  the  older  of  the 
two  societies,  originated  in  this  idea  and  was  established 
to  realize  it.  Seemingly  one  of  the  causes  which  led 
to  the  founding  of  the  society  as  a  broad  collegiate  one 
was  the  fact  that  there  already  existed  a  class  literary 
society  known  as  the  Amphilogian.  This,  the  earliest 
literary  association,  was  formed  by  the  members  of 
Classes  A  and  B,  afterwards  constituting  the  Class  of 
'53.  Its  membership  was  limited  strictly  to  that  class 
and  it  ceased  to  exist,  so  far  as  the  College  was  con- 


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The  Literary  Societies  of  the  College      421 

cerned,  upon  its  graduation,  although  the  organization 
was  continued  by  members  of  that  class  for  some 
years  thereafter. 

The  genuine  college  life  began  with  the  founding  of 
Clionia  by  students  of  the  Classes  E  and  F,  September 
25,  185 1.  The  founders  were  Joseph  Allen,  Simeon 
Baldwin,  Jr.,  Cleveland  J.  Campbell,  Irving  S.  Campbell, 
James  W.  Mason,  Russell  Raymond,  and  Charles  C. 
White.  The  name  adopted  was  the  Free  Academy 
Union.  Its  first  debate,  at  which  ten  members  were 
present,  was  held  October  17,  1851,  upon  the  question 
"Whether  the  assistance  afforded  to  the  Cubans  by 
the  Americans  in  the  late  disturbance  was  justifiable, " 
then  a  burning  question,  growing  out  of  the  aid  given 
by  some  altruistic  Americans  in  a  recent  attempt  at 
revolution  in  Cuba.  The  question  was  decided  in  the 
negative.  The  debate  was  held  in  a  room  hired  espe- 
cially for  the  occasion.  The  other  exercises  consisted  of 
a  declamation  by  Simeon  Baldwin,  Jr.,  entitled  "A 
Parody  on  Lord  Ullin's  Daughter"  and  an  essay  by 
James  W.  Mason  on  "The  Orators  and  Statesmen  of 
Greece. "  This  was  evidently  a  great  occasion,  but  the 
luxury  of  a  hired  room  could  not  be  ordinarily  indulged 
in,  and  for  some  time  thereafter  the  meetings  were 
held  at  the  houses  of  the  members.  The  class  feeling, 
however,  was  so  strong  that  the  members  of  the  higher 
classes  would  not  join  a  society  originated  by  members 
of  the  lower  classes,  although  every  effort  was  made 
to  induce  them  so  to  do,  and  the  organization  of  the 


422      The  Literary  Societies  of  the  College 

Society  was  announced  to  be  a  temporary  one,  subject 
to  change  at  the  will  of  the  incoming  members  from 
higher  classes.  The  Society  became  one  of  all  classes 
only  by  the  process  of  the  advancement  of  its  members 
towards  graduation.  No  student  graduating  before 
'55  was  a  member  of  it.  In  some  way  shortly  after  its 
organization,  permission  was  obtained  to  hold  meet- 
ings in  School  No.  20,  afterwards  No.  35,  the  famous 
Thirteenth  Street  School,  of  which  Dr.  Hunter  was  for 
so  long  the  Principal.  Old-fashioned  candles  furnished 
the  artificial  light  at  these  meetings,  which  were  held  in 
the  evening — the  days  of  kerosene  having  not  yet  come. 
The  permission  to  use  the  schoolroom  was  before  long 
revoked  upon  the  charge  that  the  wear  and  tear  on  the 
room  was  unduly  great,  and  thereafter,  for  a  while,  the 
Society  met  at  the  houses  of  the  members,  until  per- 
mission was  later  given  to  meet  in  the  Academy 
building,  by  which  time  the  Society  had  grown  in 
numbers  and  influence  and  value.  About  this  time  the 
name  was  changed  to  "Alpha  Delta"  (A  A)  and  "Cer- 
tamus  Amicitia"  was  adopted  as  the  motto.  These 
Greek  letters  stood  for  adeXcpoi  diaXexTinni — "Broth- 
ers skilled  in  debate," — but  this  meaning  was  a  deep 
secret  carefullv  guarded  by  the  members. 

The  success  of  Clionia  evidently  led  to  the  founding 
of  Phrenocosmia  in  the  late  fall  of  1852.  Its  name  was 
then  spelled  Phrenacosmia  and  its  Greek  letters  were 
"Phi  Kappa"  ($K).  It,  too.  was  founded  by  a 
small  number  of  lower  class  men,  among  whom  was 


ft 
A 
2  g 


— 
C 


The  Literary  Societies  of  the  College      425 

Dr.  Joseph  Anderson,  '54,  who  was  also  one  of  its  early- 
presidents.  The  records  of  Phrenocosmia,  which  are 
extremely  fragmentary,  begin  in  1854.  About  this 
time  the  friction  began  between  the  Board  of  Education 
and  the  two  societies,  growing  out  of  the  attempt  to 
regulate  and  control  them,  and  the  adoption  and  the 
promulgation  of  the  rules  that  they  must  meet  in  the 
daytime,  must  choose  members  by  a  majority  vote, 
could  initiate  no  member  of  the  Introductory  class,  and 
could  have  no  library.  Both  of  the  societies  then  left 
the  college  building  and  found  quarters  in  Clinton 
flail.  Clionia  occupied  rooms  in  Clinton  Hall  from 
53  to  '57.  During  this  period  the  name  was  changed 
to  Clionia,  and  the  Latin  motto  was  dropped  and  a 
Greek  one  adopted  adekcpixds  6ia\ov/uev — "We  fight 
as  brothers" —  which  is  said  to  have  been  the  sugges- 
tion of  Prof.  Barton.  After  some  years  both  societies 
came  back  for  awhile  to  the  college  building,  and  later 
Clionia  met  in  rooms  constituting  the  Armory  of 
Battery  A  of  the  National  Guards  on  West  33d  Street. 
These  quarters  were  expensive,  but  the  members  had 
no  difficulty  in  raising  the  needed  funds.  In  more 
recent  years  both  societies  have  held  their  meetings 
in  the  college  building. 

Clionia  early  began  the  collection  of  a  library, 
which  came  to  number  several  thousand  volumes, 
consisting  mostly  of  fiction,  installed  in  one  of  the  small 
rooms  surrounding  the  chapel.  In  1871  it  was  cata- 
logued, and  the  extravagance  of  printing  this  catalogue 


426     The  Literary  Societies  of  the  College 

was  indulged  in  by  the  Society.  The  library  still 
remains  but  its  usefulness  seems  to  have  disappeared. 

Phrenocosmia  in  1854  had  about  ten  members, 
eight  of  whom  held  official  positions,  and  of  the  two 
not  blessed  with  office,  one  immediately  resigned,  leav- 
ing a  sole  non-official  member.  There  are  signs  in  the 
fragmentary  record  of  other  dissensions.  One  member 
who  resigned  carried  off  a  book  which  he  had  been 
authorized  to  buy  for  the  purpose  of  recording  the 
minutes.  This  may  explain  in  part  the  breaks  in  the 
record.  Graduates  continued  their  membership,  but 
after  '55  they  were  not  permitted  to  hold  office,  and 
thereafter  gradually  ceased  to  attend.  The  first 
recorded  oration  had  for  its  subject  Pollock's  "Course  of 
Time."  The  first  recorded  debate  was  upon  the 
proposition  "Political  themes  are  fit  subjects  of  dis- 
course for  the  Pulpit." 

In  the  records  under  date  of  February,  '5  5 ,  it  appears 
that  the  Society  requested  the  Board  of  Education  to 
alter  the  offensive  rules,  already  referred  to.  The 
resolution  among  other  things,  recites  that  the  Society 
should  be  "reinstated  into  all  their  former  privilages 
[sic]  in  the  Academy,  without  infringing  on  the 
independance  [sic]  or  honor  of  either  party."  This 
dignified  proposition  produced  seemingly  no  effect  on 
the  Board  of  Education,  but  apparently  did  increase 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  members,  for  they  continued,  ac- 
cording to  the  record,  to  hold  meetings  up  to  July  16th 
of   that  year.     On  December   17,    1855,   they  held  a 


The  Literary  Societies  of  the  College     427 

private  "Anniversary  Meeting"  at  "Gramercy  Lodge 
Room"  and  the  "Hon.  Horace  Webster"  made  a  few 
remarks.  A  public  anniversary  was  arranged  for  the 
following  spring.  At  this  public  meeting  it  appears  that 
the  "Marshal"  disgraced  the  membership  by  appearing 
in  an  intoxicated  condition.  This  was  the  occasion 
of  much  debate  and  many  resolutions,  and  resulted  in  a 
demand  for  formal  apology  which  was  delivered  in 
writing,  and  finally  accepted  on  motion,  to  which  an 
amendment  was  offered,  but  lost,  that  the  Marshal 
be  further  instructed  to  "refrain  from  boasting"  of  his 
offence.  It  was  in  connection  with  this  same  celebra- 
tion that  it  was  resolved  by  the  Society  to  "request 
the  several  speakers  not  to  expatiate  longer  than  ten 
minutes. " 

The  second  public  anniversary  was  held  in  1856,  after 
which  it  was  voted  to  discontinue  the  custom  because 
of  the  expense,  and  the  subsequent  recognitions  of  the 
date  were  private  affairs.  In  1857,  the  "obnoxious 
by-laws"  which  kept  the  societies  out  of  the  college 
building  were  repealed.  In  October  '57  members  of 
the  Introductory  Class  were  barred  from  membership 
thereafter.  The  records  of  this  year  contain  an  account 
of  a  stranger  who  entered  the  meeting,  apparently  as  a 
visitor,  and  interrupted  the  proceedings  until  he  was 
invited  to  make  a  speech.  He  then  started  "a  flow  of 
derogatory  remarks,"  which  led  to  the  conclusion  that 
he  was  not  sober,  and  he  was  conducted  with  "due 
solemnity  outside.  "     During  this  vear  there  was  waged 


428      The  Literary  Societies  of  the  College 

also  a  mighty  war  of  words,  because  a  member  felt  that 
he  was  insulted  by  some  remarks  addressed  to  him  by 
the  President.  This  charge  resulted  in  many  resolu- 
tions and  much  argument,  and  a  private  meeting  was 
held  at  a  member's  house  for  the  discussion  and  decision 
of  the  matter,  which  resulted  in  the  exoneration  of  the 
President.  After  1858,  the  minutes  entirely  disap- 
pear until  187 1 ;  thus  the  entire  record  during  the 
war  is  lost. 

As  early  as  November,  '55,  members  of  the  two 
Societies  were  invited  to  attend  each  other's  meetings, 
and  such  friendly  relations  continued  until  '57,  when 
Clionia  proposed  the  holding  of  joint  debates.  Phreno- 
cosmia  agreed  to  this,  but  first  demanded  an  apology 
for  some  supposed  insult  to  her  by  some  overzealous 
Clionian,  when  on  the  floor  of  his  Society  he  discussed 
the  proposed  project  of  joint  debates.  As  Clionia 
professed  ignorance  of  any  insult,  while  Phrenocosmia 
insisted  on  an  apology,  and  the  apology  was  not  made, 
Phrenocosmia  withdrew  from  all  intercourse  with  her 
rival  for  a  considerable  length  of  time.  Subsequently, 
all  friction  between  the  two  societies  apparently 
vanished.  Indeed,  we  learn  from  General  Tremain,  a 
leading  Phrenocosmian  of  that  day,  that  matters  were 
entirely  harmonious  after  1859,  and  in  that  year  he 
took  part  in  what  he  believes  to  be  the  first  joint 
debate  between  the  two  societies.  It  was  held  in 
Dr.  Doremus'  Chemical  Lecture  Room,  and  the  ques- 
tion was:  "  If  the  South  should  secede,  would  it  be  able 


Natural  History  Hall. 
Looking  north,  showing  cases  of  specimens  mainly  the  gifts  of  Professor 
Stratford  and  Professor  Dean. 


429 


The  Literary  Societies  of  the  College      43  r 

to  maintain  itself  as  an  independent  Confederacy?" 
Phrenocosmia  held  the  negative  of  the  question,  and 
the  vote  taken  after  the  close  of  the  debate  was  over- 
whelmingly on  that  side.  The  records  after  '71  show 
that  meetings  were  held  sometimes  in  Masonic  Hall 
and  sometimes  in  the  College.  The  joint  debates  were 
again  re-established.  At  a  debate  held  January  12, 
1872,  in  the  Chemical  Lecture  Room,  there  were  about 
seventy  present.  Professor  Compton  acted  as  Judge. 
John  Bach  McMaster  of  '72  won  for  Phrenocosmia,  and 
the  prize  was  a  copy  of  Bryant's  Iliad.  The  honors 
have  been  very  nearly  even  since  the  re-establishment 
of  the  joint  debates  between  the  two  societies. 

In  1868,  James  Kelly,  Esq.,  by  gift  of  $1000,  es- 
tablished a  prize  to  be  awarded  to  the  best  debater 
among  six  elected  annually  by  both  literary  societies, 
and  these  annual  debates  became  a  great  source  of 
emulation  between  the  two  societies,  and,  as  in  their 
joint  debates,  the  honors  to  the  two  societies  have  been 
practically  even.  In  the  writer's  time,  this  debate 
was  held  in  Steinway  Hall  on  Fourteenth  Street.  It 
was  a  great  public  function  and  tested  the  capacity  of 
the  large  hall  to  its  utmost.  The  College  paid  all  the 
expenses,  including  the  furnishing  of  a  large  orchestra. 
Owing  to  this  great  expense,  however,  these  debates 
were  held  subsequently  either  at  the  college  building 
or  in  the  Hall  of  the  Board  of  Education. 

In  1887,  Hon.  Elliott  F.  Shepard,  then  acting  as  a 
referee  at  a  joint  debate,  offered  a  sum  of  $500  to  be 


43 2     The  Literary  Societies  of  the  College 

contested  for  in  prizes  of  $50  each.  Clionia  won  the 
first  prize,  and  thereafter  the  honors  again  were 
practically  even. 

During  the  years  covered  by  the  writer's  term  in 
College,  both  societies  were  in  a  flourishing  condition 
and  on  most  friendly  relations.  The  writer  was  a 
Phrenocosmian . 

A  great  event  for  both  societies  at  that  time  was 
their  Annual  Exhibition,  as  it  was  called,  which  had 
been  held  for  a  number  of  years  at  the  Academy  of 
Music.  Eight  members  were  elected  to  deliver  original 
orations,  and  a  large  orchestra  was  furnished  to  dis- 
course music  between  the  speeches.  The  old  Academy 
could  hardly  contain  the  crowds  that  enjoyed  these 
occasions.  Expenses  were  paid  by  subscriptions  by 
the  students  who  could  afford  to  pay  and  by  money 
raised  on  the  sale  of  the  boxes.  The  expenses  were 
between  $500  and  $600  on  each  occasion,  but  there  was 
never  any  difficulty  in  raising  the  amount  needed.  In 
1872,  these  functions  were  discontinued  because  there 
were  so  many  members  of  limited  means  that  it  was 
felt  to  be  indelicate  to  have  an  entertainment  to  which 
so  many  were  entirely  unable  to  contribute. 

About  this  time  also  took  place  the  first  joint 
debate  between  one  of  the  literary  societies  of  the 
College  and  one  of  the  literary  societies  of  the  Normal 
College.  It  was  between  Clionia  of  the  College  and 
Alpha  of  the  Normal,  and  it  was  voted  a  very  successful 
affair.     The  Clionian  records  of  the  contest  have  un- 


The  Literary  Societies  of  the  College     433 

fortunately  been  lost  but  those  who  participated  in  the 
excitement  recall  it  with  vivid  satisfaction. 

In  1873,  for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  Kelly 
Prize  Debates,  Clionia  took  both  prizes,  the  winners 
being  Lewinson  and  Kohn  of  '73. 

In  1877,  Phrenocosmia  held  its  Twenty-fifth  Anni- 
versary in  the  Academy  of  Music,  an  entirely  wor- 
thy affair.  Lewis  S.  Burchard,  '77,  presided;  General 
Tremain,  '60,  delivered  the  Graduates'  address;  and, 
Dr.  Joseph  Anderson,  '54,  read  a  poem  on  Professor 
Barton. 

In  gathering  the  data  for  this  sketch,  the  following 
letter  has  been  received,  which  is  of  so  much  interest 
that  it  has  been  decided  to  print  it  in  full: 

73  Avenue  Kleber,  Paris, 

Feb.   16th,   1907. 
Prof.  Charles  F.  Horne, 
Dear  Sir: 

My  mail  from  America  brings  me,  this  morning,  your  letter 
of  January  29th. 

Right  glad  am  I  to  hear  of  your  proposed  Memorial  Volume 
concerning  the  College  of  the  City  of  New  York — my  Alma  Mater. 
But  I  am  sorry  to  reward  your  Phi  Kappa  inquiries  with 
only  a  meagre  and  nebulous  response. 

It  is  true  that  in  1852  (or  perhaps  a  year  later)  I  co-operated 
with  some  of  my  fellow-collegians  of  Class  C  in  founding  the 
Phrenocosmian  Literary  Society,  and  in  editing  (with  their 
help)  its  organ  or  gazette: — which  was  a  wee  bit  of  a  news- 
paper— not  printed,  but  handed  about  in  manuscript, — issued 
not  regularly  but  at  odd  times,  the  total  edition  always  con- 
sisting of  one  copy  only, — and  which,  in  passing  from  borrower  to 


434      The  Literary  Societies  of  the  College 

borrower,  was  sometimes  lost,  or  more  usually  worn  out  and 
finally  reduced  to  its  primitive  rags! 

In  fact,  the  Phrenocosmian  "early  records"  (as  you  call 
them)  did  not  include  any  formal  and  permanent  Book  of  Min- 
utes, or  journal  of  proceedings,  but  were  simply  a  few  hap- 
hazard contributions  such  as  might  chance  to  be  flung  together 
to  make  up  the  tardy  next  number  of  a  semi-occasional  fly-sheet. 

I  think  I  am  right  in  saying  that  nothing  like  a  "file"  of  this 
spasmodic  publication  existed  either  under  my  regime,  or  during 
my  college-term. 

Nevertheless,  any  student  who  wanted  to  wreak  himself  on 
expression,  and  to  commit  a  burst  of  eloquence,  was  allowed 
a  generous  latitude. 

It  was  a  free  press! 

My  small  corps  of  the  more  regular  and  sedate  contributors, 
such  as  never  on  any  occasion  had  fireworks  to  let  off,  were 
Joseph  R.  Anderson,  Edmund  Belfour,  Franklin  S.  Rising,  and 
E.  Tanjore  Corwin: — so  that  strictly  speaking  the  whole  editorial 
staff,  except  only  the  editor-in-chief,  consisted  of  clergymen 
in  embryo! 

Hut  I  never  found  that  these  sober-minded  gentlemen  ob- 
jected to  innocent  fun.  So  our  little  sheet  bristled  with  a  crispy 
secularity — a  breezy  worldliness  especially  adapted  to  "well 
ordered  minds"  and  hence  its  contents  were  specifically  and 
etymologically  "Phrenocosmian."  It  irradiated  Murray  Hill 
and  Lexington  Avenue  with  Baconian  Wisdom  in  the  form  of 
oillcge-jokes  and  with  vivacious  comments  on  passing  events, 
all  set  forth  with  an  adolescent  freshness  of  style  far  more  spark- 
ling than  much  of  the  weary  waggery  which  I  now  read  daily 
in  the  Figaro  in  its  "  Xouvelles  a  la  Main." 

Let  me  tell  you  an  anecdote  of  those  golden  days  of  Phi  Kappa. 

One  of  the  non-clerical  luminaries  of  Class  C  (a  splendid 
comrade  whom  we  never  saluted  bv  his  name  but  alwavs  bv  his 


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The  Literary  Societies  of  the  College      437 

initials)  said  to  me  one  day,  "Our  college  newspaper  would  be 
much  better  if  it  were  not  so  good,"  and  his  remedial  suggestion 
was  "Less  comedy  and  more  science!" 

Whereupon  I  challenged  him  to  contribute  to  our  very  next 
number  a  brief  resume  of  his  most  solemn  views  on  the  Descent 
i if  Man. 

His  lucubration  (as  nearly  as  I  can  recall  its  phraseology) 
was  as  follows: 

The  Problem  of  the  Origin  of  Species. 

Question:  Why  was  Eve  created? 
Answer:  For  Adam's  Express  Company. 

This  bon  mot,  on  its  first  appearance  in  our  Phrenocosmian 
sheet,  was  signed  G.  F.  S. 

It  was  at  once  stolen  by  the  whole  American  press — no 
credit  being  given  either  to  the  author,  or  to  Phi  Kappa. 

So  I  take  the  liberty  of  mentioning  that  the  G.  F.  S.  of  half 
a  century  ago  is  to-day  the  celebrated  physician  and  surgeon 
Dr.  George  F.  Shrady  of  New  York. 

I  close  my  letter,  my  dear  Mr.  Home,  by  adding  that  my  long- 
ago  editorship  of  the  Phrenocosmian  journal  was  terminated  by 
the  graduation  of  my  college  class  in  1855. 

Good  luck  to  your  Memorial  Volume! 

Cordially  yours, 

Theodore  Tiltox. 

The  societies  have  not  been  without  their  troubles 
during  succeeding  years.  The  Kelly  Debates  were  not 
held  for  a  number  of  years,  the  fund  for  some  reason 
not  having  been  productive,  but  the}"  have  now  been 
resumed ;  the  most  recent  joint  debate,  held  in  Decem- 
ber, 1906,  was  won  by  Clionia,  and  singularly  this  victory 


438      The  Literary  Societies  of  the  College 

made  the  record  of  joint  debates  between  the  two 
societies  once  more  exactly  alike. 

A  number  of  literary  societies  have,  from  time  to 
time,  originated  in  some  one  or  other  of  the  sub- 
Freshman  classes  in  recent  years;  most  of  them  have  had 
a  short  life,  but  one,  the  Adelphian,  has  not  only  main- 
tained itself  for  three  years  in  those  classes,  but  now 
has  members  who  are  of  the  Collegiate  classes. 

The  establishment  of  the  "Department  of  Oratory" 
under  Professor  Palmer  has  brought  debating  practi- 
cally into  the  curriculum  of  the  College  and  the  interest 
in  that  subject  has  greatly  increased,  especially  since 
the  success  of  the  College  in  its  two  debates  with 
Hamilton.  Nevertheless,  the  two  leading  societies 
have  maintained  their  traditional  independence.  Stand- 
ing thus  as  peculiarly  and  emphatically  student 
organizations,  they  have  grown  in  strength  and  in 
numbers  and  are  in  a  condition  satisfactory  both  to 
the  College  and  to  the  members. 


College  Journalism 


4?9 


College  Journalism 

Julius  M.  Mayer,  '84 
And  The  Editors 

HP  HE  idea  of  "college  journalism,"  that  is  of 
*  magazines  chronicling  student  life  and  pub- 
lished by  the  students  themselves,  is  essentially 
American.  Only  very  recently  has  it  taken  root 
in  Europe  at  all,  while  in  America  it  dates  back  to  the 
beginning  of  the  last  century.  The  Literary  Cabinet 
was  started  by  Yale  students  in  1806.  It  was  stu- 
pendously heavy  of  thought  and  slow  of  movement; 
and  it  did  not  last.  Yet  it  was  a  beginning;  and  the 
idea  soon  spread  to  other  colleges.  It  is  to  be  noted, 
however,  that  Yale  was  founded  in  1701,  hence  it  took 
her  over  a  century  to  evolve  a  college  paper.  Our 
own  Free  Academy  reached  a  similar  stage  of  develop- 
ment in  nine  years.  To  be  sure  we  began  existence 
in  a  faster  moving  age.  Moreover  our  environment 
and  associations  with  our  great  metropolis  led  us 
naturally  into  journalistic  lines.  So  that  perhaps 
we  should  rather  seek  excuse  that  our  magazines  did 
not  spring  even  earlier  into  existence — as  early  as  our 

•441 


442  College  Journalism 

literary  societies.  Such  excuse  is  to  be  found  in  the 
expenses  involved  in  printer's  ink.  The  desire,  the 
ambition  for  print,  existed  in  our  very  earliest  classes. 
We  have  record  of  the  Phrcnocosmian,  a  journal  la- 
borious y  written  out  by  hand,  far  back  in  '52,  and 
circulated  from  student  to  student  until  it  perished, 
as  more  pretentious  volumes  seldom  perish,  from  actual 
use. 

In  1858  appeared  our  first  printed  paper,  the 
Microcosm.  It  could  scarce  be  called  a  journal,  for  it 
was  intended  only  to  be  what  it  still  continues  to-day, 
an  annual  record.  Toward  literary  effort,  it  made  no 
pretence  whatever;  nor  was  it  in  a  financial  sense  a 
"venture."  It  was  prepared  by  the  fraternity  chap- 
ters of  Chi  Psi  and  Alpha  Delta  Phi;  and  the  projectors 
first  went  about  the  College  and  secured  subscriptions 
in  advance,  sufficient  to  defray  expenses.  They  then 
proceeded  to  "cut  their  coat  according  to  their  cloth" 
and  issued  only  a  four-page  sheet,  12x16  inches,  giving 
the  names  of  the  faculty,  members  of  the  classes,  so- 
cieties and  similar  rather  deadening  details. 

The  Microcosm  had  in  i860  a  rival  similar  to  itself, 
the  Cosmopolitan,  which  sprang  into  existence  under 
s]  >ur  of  the  healthy  rivalry  roused  among  students  who 
felt  themselves  too  little  noticed  in  the  other  publica- 
tion.    The  Cosmopolitan  lasted  through  three  years. 

Encouraged  by  the  success  of  both  these  annuals  a 
real  journal  was  attempted,  the  Free  Academy  Monthly. 
In  this  enterprise  the  students  were  encouraged  and 


-.1. 

E 
g 
si 


*^,         *. 


College  Journalism  445 

advised  by  Professor  Anthon  and  several  others  of 
the  teaching  force;  and  the  first  and  alas!  only  number 
of  the  Monthly  ever  published  was  a  really  admirable 
production.  It  appeared  in  the  winter  of  1860-61; 
then  came  the  tumult  of  the  Civil  War,  and  the  Monthly 
was  forgotten. 

During  the  war  the  Microcosm  continued  as  the 
sole  printed  representative  of  the  students.  Then  in 
1866  came  the  change  of  name  of  our  institution  to  the 
City  College,  and  with  the  change,  as  though  inspired 
by  it,  appeared  that  ambitious  magazine,  the  Collegian. 
The  first  number  of  this  was  issued  November  2 1 , 
1866;  it  was  published  by  the  class  of  '68  under 
the  editorship  of  Richard  R.  Bowker,  then  a  member 
of  the  class.  The  paper  was  planned  as  a  bi-weekly; 
it  published  news  of  student  doings  in  brief;  but  was 
devoted  mainly  to  literary  purposes  and  included  in  its 
pages  some  poems  which  have  since  won  considerable 
repute.  Really  admirable  as  the  paper  was,  it  failed 
of  financial  success.  Of  advertisements  it  had  prac- 
tically none,  and  while  the  students  liked  the  articles 
and  approved  their  general  tone,  yet  the  price  per  copy, 
twelve  and  then  fifteen  cents,  was  higher  than  most 
student  purses  could  afford.  So  the  Collegian  died 
after  issuing  eight  numbers. 

Warned  by  this  serious  and  decided  failure  our 
embryo  journalists  kept  out  of  print  for  several  years, 
if  we  except  a  single  number  of  a  paper  published  in 
1870,  and  called    the  Introductory  because  issued  by 


446  College  Journalism 

members  of  the  Introductory  class.  Then  in  1874  there 
came  a  sudden  startling  outburst  of  the  journalistic 
fever.  Papers  sprang  up  throughout  the  College  like 
mushrooms  and  some  of  them  to  the  genuine  astonish- 
ment of  their  perpetrators  proved  financially  successful. 
First  to  appear  (February,  1874)  was  the  Clionian 
Magazine,  issued  as  a  monthly  under  the  editorship  of 
Mr.  Samuels,  '74.  It  was  severely  literary,  deeply 
impregnated  with  student  wisdom,  and  was  not  among 
the  pecuniary  victories.  It  was  discontinued  after  three 
issues. 

In  that  same  spring  appeared  the  College  Budget, 
which  enjoys  the  distinction  of  being  the  first  C.  C.  N.  Y. 
magazine  that  paid.  Let  us  with  all  humility  confess 
that  nobody  ever  accused  the  Budget  of  the  journalistic 
crime  of  being  "literary."  Its  first  issue  was  pub- 
lished as  a  joke  by  H.  C.  Kahrs,  '75.  Indeed  if  we  may 
believe  the  Budget's  own  assurance  Mr.  Kahrs,  or  H.  C. 
Shark,  as  he  placarded  his  name  in  thin  disguise,  not 
only  edited  and  published  but  also  printed  the  sheet 
himself.  It  was  certainly  printed  execrably,  full  of 
errors,  on  a  3  x  5  sheet  of  cheapest  paper.  But  it  was 
crowded  with  fun  and  impudence  and  the  rather  vapid 
personalities  which  please  the  lad  who  thus  for  the 
first  time  sees  his  own  name  in  public  type.  So  it 
"took.  "  Kahrs  was  joined  by  some  of  his  classmates, 
Henry  Jenkins,  now  principal  of  the  largest  public 
school  in  our  city,  and  others;  and  among  them  they 
kept  the  Budget  alive  until  the  spring  of  '75.     They  in- 


College  Journalism  447 

creased  its  size  too  and  improved  on  its  respectability, 
without  losing  its  ingenuity  of  wit  and  sarcasm.  Jen- 
kins, "our  paid  poet"  as  the  editorial  page  denominated 
him,  had  a  ready  power  of  rhyme  which  has  not  deserted 
him,  and  his  squibs  would  have  made  good  reading 
in  far  more  pretentious  columns. 

The  Budget's  success  soon  brought  it  rivals  of 
similar  type.  This  class  of  '75  was  certainly  a  remark- 
able one  in  its  thirst  for  print.  Its  first  effort  had  been 
the  Introductory,  then  came  the  Budget.  Then  another 
faction  of  the  class  published  an  opposition  piece  of 
impudence  called  the  Firefly,  and  edited  by  Wilbur 
Larremore,  since  editor  of  more  ambitious  works. 
The  Freshman  class,  '77,  started  the  Mosquito.  Next 
vear  the  incoming  Freshmen  of  '78  issued  the  Flea; 
and  '79,  still  an  Introductory  class,  produced  the 
Meteor.  The  names  of  these  sheets  form  sufficient 
indication  of  their  spirit  and  style. 

Perhaps  the  editors  themselves  were  a  little  ashamed 
that  in  the  rapidly  developing  world  of  college  journal- 
ism our  College  was  no  better  represented  for  we  find 
that  all  of  these  buzzing  little  insects  lent  generous 
aid  to  an  attempt  to  re-establish  the  defunct  Collegian. 
This  effort  and  the  use  of  the  old,  revered  name  were 
sanctioned  by  Mr.  Bowker,  editor  of  the  former  Col- 
legian. The  new  paper,  founded  on  the  lines  of  the 
old,  appeared  in  January,  1875,  under  the  managing 
editorship  of  G.  N.  Messiter  of  '75.  Both  Larremore 
and  Jenkins  were  on  the  editorial  staff;  so  was  J.  V.  V. 


448  College  Journalism 

Olcott  of  '76,  now  Congressman  Olcott,  Hanford 
Crawford,  '75,  Nelson  S.  Spencer,  '75,  in  short  all  the 
literary  talent  of  the  College. 

Even  these  men,  however,  could  not  make  a  purely 
literary  paper  pay  by  its  sale  among  undergraduates. 
Four  numbers  of  the  Collegian  were  published  in  the 
spring  of  1875.  But  when  the  class  of  '75  was  gradu- 
ated, '76  made  no  effort  to  continue  the  profitless 
undertaking. 

Yet  the  determination  to  have  some  sort  of  paper, 
to  serve  as  a  more  dignified  representative  of  the 
College  than  the  slangy  little  insect  buzzers,  was 
steadily  gaining  strength.  As  '76  did  not  take  up  the 
work,  two  men  of  the  following  classes  attempted  it. 
They  were  L.  S.  Burchard  of  '77,  and  F.  S.  Williams 
of  '78.  Between  them  they  planned  the  Echo,  a 
journal  which  should  by  being  part  literary,  part  newsy, 
combine  the  glory  of  one  style  with  the  profit  of  the 
other.  They  secured  the  approval  and  support  of  the 
former  editors  of  the  Collegian  and  so  were  able  to 
advertise  their  paper  as  the  legitimate  successor  of 
that  dignified  failure.  Then  they  formed  an  "Echo 
Association"  in  which  several  members  of  the  Senior 
class,  '77,  and  also  of  the  Juniors  and  Sophomores 
joined  to  aid  them.  In  December,  1876,  the  Echo 
began  its  career. 

In  seeking  to  gather  the  forgotten  data  for  this 
sketch  I  obtained  from  one  of  the  Echo's  early  editors 
an  account  so  characteristic  that  I  make  no  effort  to 


a 


P   ffi 


c   3 

a! 
V. 


College  Journalism  451 

change,  but  quote  it  entire.  No  reader  of  our  college 
literature  will  fail  to  recognize  the  genial  pen  of 
Burchard,  '77,  the  first  president  of  the  Echo  Asso- 
ciation. 


When  '77  entered  its  Senior  year,  steps  were  taken 
to  launch  a  new  college  paper.  An  association  of 
members  of  the  three  upper  classes  was  formed  and 
the  College  Echo  was  launched.  I  was  in  the  literary 
subdivision  of  the  board  of  editors,  Sigismund  Pol- 
litzer,  '79,  hounded  us  for  copy,  and  Frank  S.  Williams, 
'78,  was  business  or  managing  editor.  The  Echo  was 
criticised  by  one  of  its  contemporaries  for  "spreading 
its  new-fledged  wings  too  ambitiously, "  but  attained 
a  small  sort  of  distinction.  Perrin,  '79,  composed  the 
dedicatory  verses  beginning 

"  Tis  related  that  Echo,  a  lovely  young  Oread, 
Sat  beside  Juno  and  chatted  so  long, 
That  old  Jove  slipped  away  and  clandestinely  sported 
"With  all  the  fair  nymphs  in  that  heavenly  throng;" 

and  Emil  Andrew  Huber,  '77,  began  a  series  of  poetical 
contributions  which  for  sheer,  simple,  inexplicable 
genius — a  Poe-like  melody  and  unearthly  weirdness  or 
eerieness,  a  Keatsian  splendor  of  landscape — had 
never  been  equalled  in  the  history  of  the  College. 

During  the  first  two  or  three  months  of  the  Echo's 
career,  there  occurred  the  funniest  little  journalistic 
scrap  the  College  ever  saw. 


452  College  Journalism 

Just  before  the  first  number  of  the  Echo  came  out, 
and  while  we  "editors"  were  all  somewhat  aghast  at 
the  amount  of  writing  it  took  to  fill  the  maw  of  the 
unpresentable  monster  that  "took  so  long  a-borning, " 
the  class  of  '80,  then  in  the  Freshman  year,  brought 
out  a  comical  little  mishap  of  a  paper  called  the  Star 
of  '80.  Its  first  number  was  written  almost  entirely 
by  a  lovable,  blundering,  energetic,  harumscarum 
Freshman  named  Oscar  B.  Weber,  who  afterward 
became  rich  and  famous  as  a  builder  of  really 
beautiful  chimneys  of  so-called  "radial"  brick  for  gas 
works  and  factories,  and  who  died  only  recently.  The 
paper  was  printed  in  some  German  printing  office  over 
in  a  small  Jersey  town  and  was  full  of  amusing  typo- 
graphical errors.  For  instance,  the  opening  "poem" — 
we  all  had  to  start  life  with  "poems"  in  those  days — 
began  by  comparing  itself  to  "a  bird"  that  "first 
assays  its  maiden  flight"  and,  after  cavorting  around, 
sometimes  without  bothering  to  rhyme  its  quatrains 
and  sometimes  without  waiting  for  a  fourth  line, 
soared  to  its  noblest  height  by  chanting : 

"  O'er  the  far-extended  earth, 
Clouds  will  hide,  thy  light  appearing, 
Truth  will  wear  [sic]  its  noble  head, 
Drown  the  voices  of  the  snearing." 

The  Budget  had  been  Bohemian — having  a  bit  of 
literary  flavor  in  its  fooling,  the  Mosquito,  neat  and  tiny, 
the  Festive  Flea,  flippant  and  ribald,  the  Meteor  solemn 


College  Journalism  453 

and  priggishly  literary,  but  this  Star  had  nothing  but  a 
heavy  German-American  clumsiness.  Here  was  grist 
for  the  despairing  Echo  millers.  And  so  I  wrote  a  re- 
view and  pounded  the  poor  little  Star. 

Then  came  my  punishment.  To  fill  up  that  awful 
first  Echo  I  had  taken  a  Sophomore  composition  on 
"The  Dream  of  Eugene  Aram"  (subject  assigned)  and 
a  "Junior  Oration"  on  Thomas  Hood  and  tacked  the 
two  together  into  an  "article"  on  Thomas  Hood.  It 
was  turgid,  wordy,  Sophomoric  (pardon,  '09!),  and 
deserved  all  that  "came  to  it."  But  imagine  the 
astonishment  of  the  Seniors  in  general  and  poor  me  in 
particular  when,  within  a  few  weeks  of  the  publication 
of  the  Echo,  out  pops  a  "No.  2"  of  the  Star  of  '<5?o, 
correctly  edited  and  printed,  and  containing  two  of 
the  wittiest  and  most  scathing  roasts  of  the  Echo  in 
general  and  Thomas  Hood  in  particular  that  could  be 
imagined.  Slashing,  dashing  criticisms  of  the  first 
order,  worthy  of  Charles  A.  Dana  in  his  raciest  moods, 
they  left  neither  hide  nor  hair  of  poor  Hood's  eulogist. 
Evidently,  the}-  were  the  work  of  mature  minds,  of 
writers  who  had  read  far  more  than  any  undergraduate 
we  had  ever  seen.  It  seemed  to  me  like  an  aggravated 
case  of  calling  in  a  big  brother.  The}'  estimated  my 
flights  as  of  the  style  of  "a  pale,  interesting  young 
clergyman,  the  recipient  of  many  slippers,"  and  com- 
pared them  to  "the  emotional  effusions  of  Theodore 
Tilton  in  the  days  when  Tilton  wrote  with  purity  of 
feeling"  (this  was   just  after. the  Beecher-Tilton  trial). 


454  College  Journalism 

They  were  reminded  "of  a  virgin  with  yearnings," 
quoted  Artemus  Ward — "Let  her  gush!  I  roared,  as  loud 
as  I  could  holler,"  and  accused  me  of  "silly  half- 
plagiarism"  because  I  called  the  air  "multitudinous." 
Aldrich's  Tom  Bailey  used  the  text-book  description 
of  the  earthquake  of  Lisbon  to  express  his  sensations 
during  his  first  "blight."  I  felt  reminded  of  the  lines 
in  Horatius — 

"All  shrank, — like  boys  who,  unaware, 
Ranging  a  wood  to  start  a  hare, 
Come  to  the  mouth  of  the  dark  lair 
Where,  growling  low,  a  fierce  old  bear 
Lies  amidst  bones  and  blood.  " 

In  the  second  number  they  roasted  a  second  Sopho- 
more composition  of  mine  refurbished  into  another  Echo 
"article,"  and  turned  the  kreese  in  ray  wound  by 
displaying  the  masterly  critical  taste  to  recognize  and 
praise  most  heartily,  and  with  really  scholarly  and 
poetic  appreciation,  Huber's  first  remarkable  verses  in 
the  measure  of  Tears,  idle  Tears,  beginning — 

Sea,  open  sea;  it  heaves  and  sinks  amain 

In  long,  low  swell  of  heavy-lifted  waves, 

Hollows  and  hills,  and  caves  of  moving  sea, 

Near  plash  and  distant  boom;  and,  on  the  verge, 

Still,  stealthy  lines  that  creep  against  the  sky — 

And  all  is  glossy  in  the  cold,  white  moon; 

The  corpse  is  silent  with  its  ghost,  the  moon. 

The  Star  reviewer,  recalling  the  man}'  phrases 
descriptive   of    the   sea,    "from   the   much    collegian- 


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o 

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O 


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o 
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College  Journalism  457 

mimicked  '  multitudinous  seas '  of  the  greatest  immortal 
to  the  'sea  of  unshovelled  graves'  of  Walt  Whitman," 
found  the  poem  a  "surprise,"  the  first  five  lines  "as- 
tounding," "true,  unmistakable  poetry,"  and  "a 
student  of  our  upper  classes  (which  before  we  did  not 
know  to  be  great  in  the  brilliancy  of  their  members) 
saying  something  .  .  .  fresh  and  free  and  as  good  and 
life-like  as  it  is  new";  and,  whether  rapping  one  of  us 
over  the  knuckles  or  patting  the  other  of  us  on  the 
head,  conveyed  the  tremendous  impression  of  a  veteran 
litterateur,  say,  like  our  own  Anthon,  in  some  incom- 
prehensible manner  amusing  himself  contributing  to 
an  aforetime  absurd  Freshman  paper,  making  Riggs's 
Essay  men  and  Seniors  stand  around  like  schoolboys 
and  treating  eloquence  carefully  modelled  on  Shaw's 
Literature   as  "  gaspirations.  " 

To  help  "fill  up"  that  ravenous  maw  of  the  Echo, 
when  we  came  to  print  the  second  number  I  could  n't 
resist  the  temptation  of  inserting  what  I  thought  the 
gem  of  all  the  Riggs  Essays  as  preserved  in  a  book  in 
President  Webb's  office — one  written  by  Edward  Morse 
Shepard.  '69,  when  a  Junior,  on  the  assigned  subject 
of  "  The  Gentleman. "  On  this,  in  the  third  number  of 
the  now  redoubtable  Star,  the  unknown  critics  fell. 
Probably  crediting  this  to  the  unfortunate  Hood  man, 
— and  greatly  flattering  him  thereby — they  proceeded 
to  "skin  him  again."  "This  time,"  they  found  it 
"not  ludicrous  but  only  dreary  and  impossible  to 
review  because  no  one  would  think  of  reading  it," 


458  College  Journalism 

because  the  Hood  man  had  the  "air  still  pulsing  with 
rich  vibrations ' ' ;  they  managed  to  ' '  dip  into  the  vague 
ocean,"  of  Shepard's  essay  "at  points,  and  of  course 
pick  up,  first  thing,  a  stock  Echo-essay  pearl, — 'aerial 
pulsations.'  "  They  called  his  gentleman  "the  real 
old  Sunday-school-book  bore"  and  recommended  him 
to  the  reading  of  "a  wicked  man  called  Thackeray," 
all  of  which,  we  heard,  was  highly  amusing  to  Shepard, 
now  chairman  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  of  the  College, 
and  nuts  and  ale  to  me.  If  the  great  and  brilliant 
Shepard  of  '69,  already  an  heroic  figure  in  our  tradition, 
was  to  catch  it,  I  could  grin  in  my  pillory. 

Who  were  these  astounding  Freshmen? — if  they 
were  Freshmen,  which  seemed    incredible,  impossible. 

We  soon  came  to  know  them  and  found  them  to  be 
Henry  G.  S.  Noble,  now  one  of  the  Governing  Com- 
mittee of  the  New  York  Stock  Exchange  and  one  of 
the  committee  that  built  the  new  Exchange,  and 
Francis  Dane  Bailey,  himself  a  poet,  philosopher,  and 
critic.  With  R.  Floyd  Clarke,  later  first  prize  man 
at  Columbia  Law  School  and  author  of  the  Science 
of  Law  and  Lawmaking,  and  Harry  W.  Mack,  they 
carried  on  the  Star  intermittently  till  graduation,  when 
the  Star  published  a  Class-Day  Book  in  pamphlet 
form  in  which  Noble  produced  a  History  of  the  Class 
of  '8o  with  illustrations  by  the  author,  which,  with  the 
January  and  February.  '77,  numbers  of  the  Star,  re- 
mains to  this  day  the  wittiest  and  funniest  piece  of  un- 
dergraduate writing  that  the  College  has  ever  seen.     To 


College  Journalism  459 

this  Class-Day  Book  Bailey  contributed  a  series  of 
sketches  in  the  style  of  Edward  Lear's  immortal 
Nonsense  Book,  the  Pictorial  History  of  the  Class  of 
'8o,  illustrating  '8o's  intellectual  development. 

Thus  the  Star  swam  out  of  our  ken,  while  the  Echo 
kept  on  a-coming  out.  Bailey  wrote  for  it  a  scream- 
ing review  of  Shaw's  English  Literature  and  Freeman's 
History;  Professor  Werner  gave  us  a  wise  and  fastidi- 
ously worded  essay,  "On  Scintillation";  Huber,  Bailey, 
Theodore  Ives,  Perrin,  and  Merington,  all  of  '79,  wrote 
verses;  Professor  Roemer  gave  us  a  menu  in  Latin; 
Larremore,  '75,  two  charming  essays,  "A  Brief  Homily," 
and  "The  Dilettante";  Spencer,  '75,  "A  Dogma  in 
Criticism ";  Marcus  Stine,  '76,  two  letters  from  Leipzig, 
one  describing  a  student  duel;  and  other  graduates 
contributed  and  we  kept  up  quite  a  gait.  We  of  the 
Echo  were,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  the  first  to  recognize 
the  decorative  possibilities  of  the  College  seal  and  make 
it  part  of  the  "make-up"  of  our  title,  as  the  Mercury 
does  to  this  day. 

For  this,  one  of  the  exchanges  said  we  sported  the 
"spiciest  motto"   of  all  the  College  papers. 

L.  S.  B. 


The  Echo  maintained  itself  vigorously  through 
1877  and  1878,  a  credit  to  the  College,  as  highly  hon- 
ored in  other  institutions  as  in  our  own.  But  in  1879 
it  faded  and  disappeared,  the  Echo  Association  having 
failed  to  recruit  sufficient  new  members  from  the  lower 


4feo  College  Journalism 

classes.  The  little  Star  of  '80  revived  for  a  moment 
to  dance  in  triumph  over  the  remains  of  its  defunct 
antagonist.  The  College  was  thus  again  left  with  no 
representative  print  except  the  Microcosm,  which  in 
1878  was  enlarged  from  its  merely  perfunctory  list  of 
names  to  a  pamphlet  somewhat  resembling  its  more 
recent  issues.  It  contained  class  histories  and  a 
chronology  of  college  events.  Moreover  its  editors  were 
able  to  "point  with  pride"  to  its  having  a  cut  for  a 
frontispiece.  Stiff  covers,  giving  the  annual  a  right 
to  be  called  a  "book,"  came  later,  with  '87  I  think  for 
the  first  time.  And  then  finally  in  '89  came  the  heavy 
board  covers  and  the  two  hundred  pages  or  more  of 
contents  which  gave  the  Microcosm  a  place  in  the  first 
rank  of  elaborate  college  publications. 

Meanwhile  in  March,  1880,  there  appeared  two 
claimants  for  the  post  left  vacant  by  the  Echo.  These 
were  Eboraciana,  issued  by  the  Sophomores  of  '82 
under  the  editorship  of  Everit  Brown,  and  the  College 
Mercury,  issued  by  the  Freshmen  of  '83.  Eboraciana 
lasted  only  half  a  year.  The  Mercury  is  still  in  ex- 
istence after  twenty-seven  years.  Let  Mr.  Mosenthal, 
one  of  its  founders,  tell  its  story,  as  he  told  it  twenty 
years  ago  in  his  farewell  number  of  the  paper. 


When  the  Echo,  in  December,  1878,  finally  passed 
out  of  existence,  matters  looked  very  gloomy  for  our 
college  journalism.  No  upper-class  man  was  willing, 
with  the  failure  of  such  brilliant  prospects  as  the  Echo 


- 


p 


College  Journalism  463 

had,  staring  him  in  the  face,  to  risk  the  establishment 
of  a  new  paper.  In  consequence,  from  this  time  till 
March,  1880,  our  College  had  no  representative.  It 
was  left  to  lower-class  men,  who  knew  little  of  the 
Echo,  except  that  their  subscriptions  had  never  been 
returned  them,  to  prepare  a  new  venture. 

The  idea  of  founding  the  College  Mercury  originated 
with  E.  J.  Newell,  '83,  and  was  talked  over  by  him 
with  several  of  his  classmates  during  their  Introductory- 
year.  It  was  not,  however,  till  the  middle  of  the 
Freshman  year  that  the  plan  was  carried  out.  In 
December,  1879,  Mr.  Newell  and  Mr.  E.  G.  Barratt, 
then  also  of  '83,  finally  agreed  on  a  mode  of  procedure. 
By  subscribing  the  necessary  funds  themselves  thev 
became  the  sole  owners  of  the  embryo  paper.  Before 
anything  further  was  done,  P.  J.  Mosenthal,  '83,  was 
taken  into  confidence,  and,  purchasing  a  few  of  the 
so-called  shares,  became  one  of  the  future  editors. 
L.  F.  Mott,  '83,  was  the  next  one  chosen,  and  he.  with 
Messrs.  Charming  and  Bayles,  who,  however,  never 
had  more  than  nominal  connection  with  the  paper, 
completed  the  editorial  board.  The  semi-annual  ex- 
amination coming  on  at  this  time  delayed  the  appear- 
ance of  the  first  number.  However,  toward  the  close 
of  February,  1880,  a  notice  appeared  on  the  bulletin, 
surmounted  by  a  figure  of  Hermes,  cut  from  an  old 
newspaper,  and  announcing  that  a  new  paper  would 
shortly  appear  under  the  management  of  E.  G.  Barratt. 
"83. 


464  College  Journalism 

Its  coming  was  awaited  with  considerable  curiosity, 
not  unmixed,  on  the  part  of  the  Seniors,  with  disdain 
at  Freshman  audacity.  For  a  time  prospects  were 
not  very  promising.  The  examinations  had  proved 
disastrous  to  one  of  the  board.  Advertisements  were 
not  easily  procured  and  such  "copy"  as  came  in  was 
of  no  great  degree  of  excellence.  But  matters  took  a 
more  favorable  turn.  Two  or  three  Seniors,  who  had 
been  connected  with  the  Echo,  good-naturedly  became 
interested  in  the  enterprise.  One  of  them  wrote  the 
opening  editorial,  which  arduous  task  the  new  editors 
did  not  dare  to  undertake.  The  modesty  and  good 
sense  of  this  bit  of  writing  did  not  a  little  toward  cre- 
ating a  favorable  impression  for  the  paper,  at  home  and 
abroad,  when  it  finally  appeared.  But  the  Echo  men 
did  the  Mercury  another  service,  by  giving  it  permission 
to  call  itself  the  successor  of  their  paper,  and  thus 
freeing  it  at  once  from  the  imputation  of  being  the 
representative  only  of  the  class  from  which  its  editors 
were  drawn. 

Finally,  in  March,  1880,  No.  1  of  the  College  Mercury 
appeared.  It  was  of  about  the  same  size  as  at  present, 
contained  sixteen  pages,  and  was  printed  in  long  primer 
type  on  good  tinted  paper.  E.  G.  Barratt's  name  was 
the  only  one  placed  at  the  head  of  the  editorial  page. 
He  was  called  the  managing  editor,  but,  though  he 
supplied  part  of  the  funds  for  starting  the  paper,  he 
never  did  any  active  work  on  it.  E.  J.  Newell  was  the 
real  manager  and  editor  at  this  time.     The  others  had 


o 


w 
x 
H 


College  Journalism  467 

absolutely  no  experience  in  writing  even  for  a  limited 
circle,  and,  as  far  as  we  can  now  remember,  only  one  of 
them  supplied  any  of  the  matter,  beyond  a  few  news 
items.  With  what  fears  and  tremblings  did  not  the 
editors  await  the  appearance  of  the  first  number.  We 
well  remember  driving  down  town  one  afternoon  to 
take  a  look  at  the  wonderful  sheet,  which  was  almost 
read}'  for  publication.  And  when  we  saw  it,  how  weak 
and  puerile  did  the  efforts  we  had  spent  time  and 
trouble  on  sound  to  us,  as  we  imagined  ourselves  in 
the  position  of  a  disinterested  or  even  inimical  critic. 
Well,  it  finally  appeared,  and  as  an  immediate  conse- 
quence we,  the  editors,  almost  disappeared  from  the 
scene  of  our  journalistic  achievements.  There  was  in 
that  first  number  a  certain  editorial  which  in  no  way 
agreed  with  some  faculty  rules  passed  at  the  time  of 
the  Echo's  difficulty,  for  the  delectation  of  college 
journalists.  For  a  time  the  paper's  existence  was 
precarious.  The  second  number  appeared  in  April,  and 
by  trying  to  explain  matters  only  made  them  worse. 
The  unfortunate  editors  were  suspended,  and  soon 
afterward  the  whole  affair  got  into  the  papers  and  cre- 
ated a  most  ludicrous  sensation.  The  New  York 
papers  embroidered  a  beautiful  legend  on  the  facts 
of  the  case  and  their  rural  contemporaries  caught 
it  up,  and  received  from  their  city  correspondents 
heart-rending  tales  of  the  attempts  to  infringe  the 
liberty  of  the  press.  The  truth  of  the  matter  is  that 
none  of  the  editors  were  suspended  longer  than  a  few 


4^8  College  Journalism 

days;  that  all  were  taken  back  into  grace  long  before 
the  issue  of  the  third  number  ;  and  that  finally  the 
Mercury,  so  far  from  being  suppressed,  has  ever  since 
enjoyed  the  complete  favor  and  sympathy  of  the 
college  authorities. 

The  second  volume  of  the  Mercury  began  in  October, 
1880,  with  E.  J.  Newell  as  managing  editor,  and  P.  J. 
Mosenthal  and  L.  F.  Mott  as  assistants.  The  rest  of 
the  board  had  by  this  time  left  college.  The  small 
number  of  editors  necessitated  the  frequent  printing 
of  contributed  matter,  thus  giving  an  agreeable  variety. 
Vol.  II,  No.  2,  saw  the  success  of  the  paper  assured. 
Hitherto  it  had  been  a  monthly,  but  now,  conforming 
to  the  general  custom,  it  became  a  fortnightly,  which 
it  has  since  remained.  With  every  succeeding  number 
it  rose  in  favor  among  the  readers  it  catered  to,  and 
completed  the  second  year  of  its  existence  with  a  large 
commencement  number,  containing  prize  lists  and 
sketches  of  the  members  of  the  graduating  class. 

The  third  volume  was  begun  under  a  different 
management  and  proprietorship.  Mr.  Newell  having 
left  college,  an  association  consisting  of  Messrs.  H.  E. 
Brown  and  W.  H.  Rachau,  '82,  purchased  from  him 
the  property  and  good-will  of  the  paper.  Mr.  Newell 
had  founded  it  and  had  by  judicious  management  made 
it  a  complete  success,  and  he  parted  from  his  former 
associates  with  the  best  of  feelings.  P.  J.  Mosenthal 
became  managing  editor  and  L.  F.  Mott  first  assistant. 
In  order  to  assure  C.  C.  N.  Y.  of  a  permanent  paper, 


College  Journalism  469 

the  new  Mercury  Association  resolved,  on  the  gradu- 
ation of  its  then  members,  to  make  a  free  gift  of  the 
paper  to  the  succeeding  editorial  board,  who  were  to 
pass  it  on  in  a  similar  way  to  the  next.  Under  a  still 
later  organization  this  plan  was  retained,  but  alumni 
members  were  given  a  voice  in  the  paper's  affairs. 
Thus,  while  always  in  the  hands  of  the  students  of  the 
College,  the  Mercury  has  in  its  alumni,  anxious  for  its 
welfare,  a  means  of  support  in  case  of  need. 

The  third  volume  was  thoroughly  prosperous. 
The  college  authorities  showed  it  their  approval  in  a 
number  of  ways,  among  others  by  giving  it  a  perma- 
nent office,  and  by  frequent  contributions.  In  Vol. 
IV.  Messrs.  E.  F.  Todd  and  J.  M.  Mayer,  '84,  took  the 
places  of  the  '82  members  who  had  graduated.  The 
success  of  the  paper  was  in  every  way  kept  up. 


This  plan  of  passing  the  Mercury  from  class  to  class 
has  indeed  preserved  it.  It  has  even  become  a  sort 
of  "school  of  journalism"  within  the  College,  not 
unworthy  of  the  institution  which  it  represents,  and 
sending  out  year  after  year  men  trained  in  the  practical 
business  of  journal-making.  Man)-  a  former  editor, 
rising  at  the  quinquennial  dinners  held  by  the  Mercury 
graduates,  has  declared  his  Mercury  labors  the  most 
valuable  of  all  his  college  work. 

Secure  in  its  strength  Mercury  has  watched  gener- 
ation after  generation  of  papers  rise  and  pass.     Some 


47°  College  Journalism 

of  them  it  is  even  possible  (an  old  Mercury  man 
can  not  be  expected  to  admit  more  than  that)  have 
temporarily  equalled  Mercury  in  wit  and  scholarship. 
But  they  have  each  and  all  been  the  work  of  individ- 
uals, perishing  with  the  single  brain. 

Most  formidable  of  these  rivals  was  the  College 
Journal,  which  began  in  December,  '82,  before  Mercury 
was  firmly  established.  It  was  published  by  men 
of  the  class  of  '85  and  by  them  passed  on  to  men  of 
'88.  For  about  five  years  its  lively  though  at  times 
indecorous  and  distinctly  "yellow"  pages  kept  the 
Mercury  editors  busy  to  "keep  ahead."  In  1892 
Clionia  revived  its  former  magazine,  but  continued  it 
for  only  two  volumes.  In  1893  Phrenocosmia  also 
started  a  literary  journal  equally  profound.  Bernard 
Naumburg,  '94,  was  the  editor  of  this.  It  was  a 
quarterly  and  persisted  through  four  volumes  befoie 
Phrenocosmian  patience,  funds,  and  literary  genius 
ran  short.  Then  there  were  the  College  Epigram  and 
the  College  Review,  severely  literary,  and  Quips  and 
Cranks,  really  bright  and  newsy,  and  Cap  and  Bells. 
With  the  separation  of  the  introductory  classes  uptown 
came  an  era  of  introductory  papers,  chief  of  which 
has  been  the  Academic  Herald,  which  began  in  Novem- 
ber, 1905,  and  still  survives. 

Of  older  papers  kept  alive  by  alumni  help  we  have 
recently  had  two.  In  January,  1904,  M.  Gaston  Laf- 
f argue,  instructor  in  the  French  department,  started 
a   French   paper,    La  XXieme  Siecle.     While   relying 


p  a 


< 

63 

X 


College  Journalism  473 

partly  on  student  support  and  material,  this  drew 
mainly  upon  the  graduates,  and  after  two  volumes 
M.  Laffargue  abandoned  it. 

On  December  30,  1904,  was  issued  the  first  number 
of  the  City  College  Quarterly,  a  magazine  devoted  to 
the  maturer  interests  of  the  College  and  its  alumni. 
It  was  edited  by  James  W.  Sheridan,  an  instructor  in 
the  English  department  of  the  College.  Mr.  Sheridan 
died  suddenly  and  tragically,  and  the  Quarterly  was 
continued  by  an  association  formed  for  that  purpose. 
It  is  now  under  the  editorship  of  Professor  Mott,  head 
of  the  English  department  and,  as  this  article  has 
recounted,  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Mercury,  the  only 
other  college  paper  which  has  persisted,  as  the  Quarterly 
seems  likely  to  persist. 


The  Fraternities 


475 


The  Fraternities 

Frank  Keck,  '72 

A  N  interesting  feature  of  a  student's  life  in  an 
American  college  is  his  membership  in  one  of 
the  Greek  letter  secret  fraternities,  and  the  ex- 
istence of  these  fraternities  at  colleges  and  uni- 
versities located  in  large  cities  helps  much  towards 
the  enjoyment  of  such  advantages  as  come  to  the 
student  attending  a  similar  institution  located  in  a 
small  town  even  where  such  fraternities  do  not  exist. 

The  student  attending  a  college  or  university  in  a 
large  city  lives  at  home,  perhaps  at  some  distance 
from  the  college  buildings,  and  sees  very  little  of  the 
social  side  of  his  fellow-student  unless  he  be  a  member 
of  one  of  these  societies.  Perhaps  he  is  inclined  to  fall 
behind  in  his  studies;  whereas  a  fraternity  man  always 
finds  a  brother  ready  with  words  of  advice  and  en- 
couragement to  help  him  on  to  better  work. 

A  very  short  period  had  elapsed  after  the  founding 
of  the  Free  Academy  when  its  students  felt  the  need 
of  some  such  organization,  and  a  local  society  known 
as  Sigma  Xi  was  established,  renting  a  house  on  Fourth 

477 


4/8  The  Fraternities 

Avenue  near  18th  Street,  Among  its  members  were 
Professor  Alfred  G.  Compton,  Hon.  John  M.  Hardy, 
Brevet  Brig.-Gen.  Gilbert  H.  McKibbin,  and  James 
H.  Steers.  It  was  not  a  secret  society,  but  purely  a 
social  club,  and  it  maintained  an  active  existence  only 
a  short  time  after  the  establishment  of  the  first  regular 
college  fraternity  in  the  Academy.  Its  members 
have  met,  however,  once  a  year  at  dinner,  and 
at  the  dinner  given  this  year  at  the  Hotel  Astor  no  less 
than  twenty  were  present. 

In  the  year  1855  several  of  the  students  were  ap- 
proached by  William  W.  Goodrich,  an  Amherst  gradu- 
ate, since  deceased  but  in  his  lifetime  a  judge  of  the 
Supreme  Court  of  the  State  of  New  York,  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  establishment  of  a  chapter  of  his  fraternity, 
the  Alpha  Delta  Phi,  at  the  Free  Academy.  He  suc- 
ceeded in  enlisting  the  interests  of  the  following  stu- 
dents of  the  class  of  1855:  William  H.  Abel,  Simeon 
Baldwin,  Lewis  C.  B  a  vies,  Francis  A.  Mason,  James 
W.  Mason,  Henry  A.  Post,  Luis  Fernandez,  and  Dayton 
W.  Searle,  and  of  the  class  of  1856  Franklin  S.  Rising, 
Russell  Sturgis,  and  James  L.  Van  Buren,  who  pe- 
titioned for  a  charter  and  became  the  founders  of  the 
Manhattan  chapter  of  the  Alpha  Delta  Phi  fraternity 
at  the  Free  Academy.  They  made  their  existence 
known  at  Commencement  in  July,  1855,  by  wearing 
the  badge  of  the  society  for  the  first  time.  They  se- 
lected their  members  from  the  students  who  were  noted 
for  their  scholarly  attainments,  and  scarcely  ever  had 


The  Fraternities  479 

at  any  one  time  more  than  six  members  from  any  one 
class. 

This  exclusiveness  on  the  part  of  the  Alpha  Delta 
Phi  left  some  excellent  material  without  the  advan- 
tages of  membership  in  a  secret  fraternity,  and  in  the 
spring  of  1856  the  Nu  chapter  of  the  Delta  Kappa 
Epsilon  Fraternity  was  organized.  Henry  Davis, 
Frederick  A.  Leeds,  Adrian  H.  Muller,  Jr.,  John  Howe, 
Jr.,  John  E.  Ward,  of  the  class  of  1856,  Jared  S.  Bab- 
cock  of  the  class  of  1857,  and  Theodore  A.  Blake 
William  Kirkland,  and  Flenry  Bausher  of  the  class 
of  1857  were  its  founders.  They  continued  their 
existence  in  secret  until  the  Commencement  in  July, 
1856,  when  they  "swung"  not  only  the  founders  but 
four  additional  members.  This  chapter  did  not  re- 
strict its  membership  solely  to  those  who  excelled 
in  their  studies,  but  looked  more  to  the  qualities  that 
go  to  make  a  generally  popular  classmate. 

The  establishment  of  these  two  fraternities  at  the 
Academy  did  not  absorb  all  the  elements  that  go 
towards  the  making  of  college  fraternities,  and  the  year 
1857  saw  the  organization  of  a  chapter  of  the  Chi  Psi 
fraternity,  which  made  some  pretensions  to  regard 
simply  the  social  position  of  the  families  of  the  students 
whom  the}'  invited  to  become  members;  and  to  em- 
phasize this  a  noticeable  smartness  in  the  apparel  of 
the  student  was  observed  by  his  fellows  almost  im- 
mediately after  he  became  a  member  of  Chi  Psi. 

Fraternitv  conditions  as  thus  observed  remained 


480  The  Fraternities 

the  same  for  a  period  of  nearly  nine  years.  During 
this  time  these  three  fraternities  had  the  field  all  to 
themselves,  and  did  about  at  they  pleased.  Their 
control  was  considerably  felt  in  college  politics.  With 
the  opening  of  the  Free  Academy  there  had  been  at  once 
organized  two  literary  societies  known  as  the  Clionian 
and  the  Phrenocosmian,  the  officers  of  which  were 
elected  by  the  members.  Public  debates  and  public 
literary  exercises  were  annually  given  at  some  public 
hall;  and  the  debaters  and  orators  for  these  exercises 
were  also  elected  by  the  members.  Naturally  the 
fraternities  would  frequently  control  the  election  to 
these  positions,  rarely  giving  the  students  who  were 
not  members  of  the  fraternities  any  representation. 
This  condition  could  not  go  on  forever,  and  so  at  the 
election  for  the  orators  to  take  part  in  the  literary 
exercises  to  be  given  in  the  spring  of  1866  at  Irving 
Hall,  much  to  the  astonishment  of  the  fraternities 
apparently  no  fraternity  man  was  elected;  but  on  the 
night  of  that  function  a  chapter  of  another  fraternity 
appeared  and  many  of  the  orators,  marshals,  and  com- 
mittee men  wore  its  badge.  Thus  was  proclaimed 
the  establishment  of  the  Upsilon  chapter  of  the  fra- 
ternity of  Phi  Gamma  Delta,  the  founders  of  which 
were  Charles  H.  Smith  of  the  class  of  1865,  William  R. 
Allen  and  James  C.  Hallock  of  the  class  of  1866,  William 
H.  Clark  and  Fred  L.  Underhill  of  the  class  of  1869.  It 
"swung  out "  with  a  membership  of  fifteen  after  having 
kept  its  existence  a  secret  for  more  than  six  months. 


w 
w 

0! 

C 


n 


E-i 


The  Fraternities  4^3 

The  Phi  Gamma  Delta  up  to  this  time  had  been  a 
distinctively  Western  and  Southern  fraternity,  its 
chapters  being  located  in  the  South  and  Southwest, 
while  the  other  three  fraternities  were  distinctively 
Eastern  institutions.  It  can  therefore  readily  be 
understood  that  the  new  fraternity  on  account  of  the 
manner  in  which  it  had  made  its  debut,  met  with 
much  opposition  from  the  older  fraternities,  and  every 
effort  was  put  forth  by  them  to  refuse  it  recognition. 
Its  members  were  at  once  dubbed  "Fee  Gees,"  their 
right  to  send  representatives  to  the  editorial  board 
of  the  society  annual  the  Microcosm  was  dis- 
puted, and  for  a  time  things  waxed  warm;  but  as  is 
almost  always  the  case  this  so-called  persecution  only 
helped  to  establish  the  "Fee  Gees"  more  firmly,  and  it 
was  finally  deemed  best  by  the  other  three  that  Phi 
Gamma  Delta  should  be  considered  in  the  fold. 

Heretofore  the  question  of  membership  was  one 
which  had  been  easily  determined:  it  was  generally  un- 
derstood that  certain  men  would  go  to  Alpha  Delta  Phi, 
others  to  D.  K.  E.,  and  still  others  to  Chi  Psi.  But  on 
the  advent  of  the  "  Fee  Gees ' '  the  situation  was  entirely 
changed  and  the  "rushing"  for  members  became  a 
serious  and  difficult  piece  of  work;  it  was  done  se- 
cretly, so  secretly  that  very  often  the  other  fraternities 
were  not  aware  of  the  so-called  rushing  of  a  student 
until  he  appeared  in  college  with  his  badge  of  mem- 
bership. Very  often  the  proposed  candidate  was 
pledged  while  still  attending  some  preparatory  school, 


4^4  The  Fraternities 

and  the  issuing  of  the  college  register  was  watched 
for  eagerly  so  that  the  field  of  contest  might  be  trans- 
ferred from  the  college  halls  to  the  home  of  the  intended 
member.  Xot  alone  was  this  secrecy  observed  in  the 
rushing  of  members:  the  time  and  place  of  meeting  of 
the  four  fraternities  were  kept  a  profound  secret  and 
everything  was  done  to  mystify  those  without  the  pale. 
In  1874  a  chapter  of  the  so-called  anti-secret  fraternitv 
Delta  Upsilon  was  organized,  but  it  had  only  a  short- 
lived existence,  surrendering  its  charter  in  1879.  In 
the  meantime  the  chapter  of  the  Chi  Psi  had  given  up 
its  charter  when  its  representation  in  the  class  of  1872 
graduated.  Almost  sixteen  years  after  the  establish- 
ment of  the  Upsilon  Chapter  of  Phi  Gamma  Delta,  the 
Theta  Delta  Chi  established  one  of  its  charges,  and  it 
still  continues  to  maintain  with  the  other  three  fra- 
ternities its  existence  at  the  College.  In  1884  a  chapter 
of  the  Phi  Delta  Theta  was  organized,  but  it  also 
had  but  a  short  existence  at  the  College.  There  have 
been  many  local  secret  fraternities  established  from 
time  to  time,  but  their  existence  rarely  continued  for  a 
longer  period  than  four  years. 

Many  of  the  students  who  were  selected  by  these 
fraternities  have  attained  some  distinction  in  the 
professions  that  they  followed,  and  reflect  much  credit 
upon  the  fraternity  in  whose  chapter  hall  they  may 
have  received  their  first  inspiration  to  follow  a  calling 
which  has  led  to  their  success  in  life. 


Songs  of  C.   C.   N.   Y. 


4S3 


Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y. 

Henry  E.  Jenkins,  '75 

AXTHENE'ER  and  where'er  the  College  Boy  fore- 
gathers, he  shows  his  pure  delight  in  living 
by  bursting  into  melody.  Even  his  cheer  that  thrills 
the  benches  at  the  great  games  is  rhythmical  and  he 
sings,  as  the  bird  sings,  for  such  his  nature  is. 

The  college  song  of  to-day  is  an  evolution  from  the 
old  English  drinking  choruses,  the  eighteenth  century 
glees,  and  last,  but  not  least,  the  songs  of  the  German 
universities  and  their  corps.  Carmina  Collegensia 
may  be  divided  in  two  great  classes — general  and  local. 
The  general  are  the  common  property  of  all  colleges, 
and,  though  attempts  are  made  here  and  there  to 
localize  with  new  lyrics,  yet  so  strongly  wedded  are 
melody  and  words  that  such  attempts  are  mainly  vain 
and  fleeting.  Shining  examples  of  such  are  ' '  Lauriger 
Horatius,"  "Integer  Vitae,"  and  "Gaudeamus  Igitur." 

There  are,  however,  many  old  melodies  which  are 
themselves  general  and  classic,  but  to  which  the  words 
are  not  so  strongly  attached.  These  form  the  bulk 
of  the  earlier  local  college  songs;  but  the  tendency  is 

4-7 


4«B  Sonffs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y. 


&• 


growing  to  use  the  popular  song  of  the  day  as  to  air. 
while  the  words  express  the  local  atmosphere  of  the 
college.  The  burden  of  the  college  song  has  always 
been  Wine,  Woman,  and  Song,  while  to-day  has  been 
added  the  glorification  of  the  various  athletic  teams. 

President  Hadley  of  Yale  says  that  the  great 
American  college  song  remains  yet  to  be  written, 
though  he  claims  that  "Old  Nassau"  of  Princeton 
approaches  nearer  perfection  than  any  other. 

Where,  however,  in  all  this  stands  C.  C.  N.  Y.  ? 
What  has  she  done  and  wherein  has  she  done  it  ?  The 
lack  of  dormitory  life  and  the  immediate  contact  of 
college  and  home  would  seem  to  militate  against  any 
great  result.  The  community  of  interest  arising  from 
the  total  dispersion  of  home  ties  and  the  welding  of 
boyish  friendship  without  a  single  outside  disturbing 
element  are  great  factors  in  the  production  of  the 
local  college  songs;  and  if  C.  C.  X.  Y.  had  failed  to 
produce  any  result  the  failure  could  easily  be  excused. 
But  she  has  not  so  failed.  Despite  most  unfavorable 
circumstances  she  has  given  to  the  college  world  songs 
that  could  well  be  compared  with  those  of  other 
institutions. 

It  has  been  difficult  to  compile  a  true  history  of  the 
efforts  in  this  direction.  Data  have  been  hard  to  find 
and  oral  tradition  has  been  the  greatest  dependence. 

The  first  book  of  songs  of  which  we  have  any 
record  was  published  in  1859  under  the  title  of  Sans 
Souci  Songs. 


« 

- 


Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y.  49 l 

It  would  seem  that  Sans  Souci  was  a  society  of  the 
students  of  that  day,  and  on  the  copy  at  hand  appears 
the  name  of  Adolph  Werner,  June  20,  1859.  It  was 
evident  that  the  classics  and  the  French  and  German 
languages  appealed  to  the  editors,  for  the  authors  have 
written  delightful  and  clever  songs  in  almost  every 
tongue  save  English.  A  Latin  song  opens  the  ball. 
It  is  clever,  and  signed  Chas.  L.  Balch,  '6o.  Then 
comes  one  signed  "  Free  Academy,"  to  the  air  of  "Sheep- 
skin. "  Is  there  any  one  living  who  could  give  that 
air?  Then  come  three  original  French  songs  signed 
"Free  Academy."  Oh,  that  modesty  had  not  for- 
bade us  to  know  the  real  name  of  that  jolly  Frenchman ! 
Then  comes  a  truly  poetical  lyric  called  the  ' '  Song  of 
the  Birds,"  by  "  Incognitus  Quidam,  A.M."  This  we 
know  now  to  be  our  dear  friend  of  long  ago  Professor 
Charles  E.  Anthon.  This  we  must  give,  and  hope  that 
it  may  be  sung.  Some  academic  composer  should  fit 
this  to  appropriate  music,  for  it  would  be  still  a  great 
song  for  alumni  gatherings. 

SOXG  OF  THE  BIRDS. 

While  on  the  board  our  glasses  ring, 
And  eyes  look  bright  and  hearts  grow  tender, 

Old  Academia  we  '11  sing. 
And  all  who  honor  and  defend  her; 

"Frohlich  und  Frei, "  in  this  our  day. 
We  11  think  on  those  who  're  gone  before  us, 

And  chant  their  praise  in  merry  lav. 
And  join  in  loud  and  hearty  chorus. 


492  Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y. 

To  the  Birds  who  've  left  their  mother's  wing, 
Though  their  old  nest  they  rarely  come  nigh; 

To  them  we  drink,  and  gayly  sing: 
"  Here  's  to  the  health  of  old  Alumni !  " 

Like  us  they  delved  in  antique  lore, 
Shook  the  rich  boughs  of  the  tree  of  knowledge, 

Then  set  the  table  in  a  roar 
With  all  the  fun  of  friends  at  college; 

Like  us  they  pored  o'er  problems  deep, 
Sweated  at  tough  examinations, 

With  Bartlett's  puzzles  banished  sleep, 
Made  laughing  love  in  long  vacations. 

Then  here  's  to  the  Birds  who  've  taken  flight 
From  banks  of  Tiber  and  Clitumnus, 

A  health  and  rousing  cheer  to-night, 
As  we  drink  "Success  to  each  Alumnus." 

But  now  they  're  scattered  far  and  wide, 
Some  dwell  in  castles,  some  in  attics; 

Some  preach  against  sin,  lust,  and,  pride, 
Some  teach   Belles-Lettres,  some  Mathematics; 

And  some  in  wealth  already  roll, 
Amaze  Broadway  with  haughty  carriage; 

And  some  have  gained  their  wished-for  goal 
In  chaste  delights  of  holy  marriage. 

Happy,  thrice  happy  may  they  prove, 
Like  old  Pomona  and  Ve/tumnus, 

And  little  birdlings  crown  the  love 
Of  every  virtuous  Alumnus. 

As  they  are  now  so  we  shall  be; 
We  think  of  them  with  hearts  o'erflowing; 

The  road  they  've  travelled  travel  we, 
Whither  they  've  gone  we  now  are  going: 


Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y.  493 

To  mighty  Platform's  sacred  height, 
Whence  graduate  learning's  strong  aroma 

Sheds  influence  through  the  festive  night, 
And  perfume  on  the  great  diploma. 

Of  the  Birds  who  leave  their  mother's  wing, 
Seldom  their  former  nest  to  come  nigh, 

To  them  we  drink  and  gayly  sing, 
"Long  life  to  new  and  old  Alumni!" 

Next  we  find  a  Graduation  Song  to  "Litoria," 
written  by  Asa  Bird  Gardiner,  '59 — no  less — and  a  Song 
of  '59  by  E.  A.  Howland,  '59.  Then  again  the  modest 
youth  who  dubbed  himself  "Free  Academy."  His 
song  about  the  "pony"  is  just  as  apropos  to-day  to 
the  wretched  youth  toiling  and  moiling  at  his  Greek  as 
it  was  then.     It's  well  worth  preserving.     Here  it  is: 

THE   "LIFE  PRESERVER." 

There  was  a  class  went  up  and  down 
To  seek  a  "pony"  through  the  town. 

What  wretches  they  who  "notes"  forsake 
Of  "ponies"  to  advantage  take. 

At  last  they  halt  before  a  stand 
Where  books  are  sold  as  second-hand. 

'Tis  advertised  a  "right  cheap  place," 
They  enter  in  with  brassy  face, 

The  dusty  books  they  toss  around. 
But  nary  "pony"  could  be  found. 

Behold  them  now  in  blank  dismay — 
"Must  we  get  'zero'  everv  day?" 


494  Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y. 

Some  noble  youth  his  mind  devotes 
To  translate  Greek  with  only  notes. 

The  morrow  sees  an  eager  crowd, 
Whilst  one  among  them  reads  aloud. 

Their  warmest  thanks  the  class  outpour, 
And  praise  him  for  his  classic  lore. 

Then  out  speaks  one:  "  Here  's  joy  to  all! 
I  met  a  tutor  in  the  hall ; 

"  He  says  a  manuscript  they  pass, 
A  legacy  from  class  to  class." 

Thus  we  obtain   the  precious  prize 
Which  neither  love  nor  money  buys. 

No  weary  brain  with  labor  racks, 

But  yet  there  comes  the  constant  "max." 

DEDUCTIM. 

Then   long  live   ponies  great  and   small, 
Who  rides  them  well  will  never  fall. 

If  ponies  fail,  and  notes  won't  do, 
Get  manuscripts  or  "fizzle  through." 

The  remainder  of  the  book  is  made  up  of  the  songs  of 
Vale,  Harvard,  etc.,  with  a  few  old  popular  favorites 
such  as  "Cheer,  Boys,  Cheer!"  Doesn't  that  last  bring 
back  boyhood  days  to  the  old  timers?  How  we  lustily 
shrieked  those  inspiring  words  in  every  grammar 
school  in  old  New  York  in  the  '6o's  and  '70's.  Never 
again  for  us! 

This  little  book  Sans    Souci  was  a  credit  to  the 
men  of  C.  C.  N.  Y.  of  that  early  date.     It  showed  the 


< 


Id 


Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y.  497 

beginning  of  a  healthy,  manly  college  spirit  and  the 
commencement  of  our  college  singing. 

The  next  song-book  on  record  is  dated  1866.  It 
is  very  handsomely  bound  and  a  well-set-up  volume, 
being  the  most  elaborate  ever  presented  by  C.  C.  N.  Y. 
It  is  styled  Songs  of  the  College  of  the  City  of  New 
York,  published  by  the  Class  of  '68.  It  has  for  its 
motto  ' '  Music  hath  charms  to  soothe  the  student 
breast."  An  aphorism  as  true  to-day  as  'twas  then. 
We  cannot  but  note  how  properly,  in  the  preface,  the 
editors  recognized  that  "song  is  the  most  pleasant, 
most  refreshing,  and  least  injurious  of  college 
amusements." 

As  usual  with  the  Classic  spirit  of  the  day  the  book 
opens  with  the  old  Latin  favorites,  and  in  deference 
to  the  "moderns"  an  original  French  chanson,  un- 
fortunately unsigned,  shows  a  knowledge  of  the  Cafe 
Chantant  that  is  rather  apocryphal.  Then  there  is  a 
song  signed  J.  R.  S.,  '68,  on  the  "New  Life"  and  another 
glorifying  '68.  There  then  seem  to  be  several  original 
songs,  but  as  they  are  not  signed,  and  are  more  poetry 
than  song,  we  can  no  more  than  allude  to  them. 

Again  appears  Professor  Anthon's  "Song  of  the 
Birds,"  but  this  time  it  is  marked  as  "Air  by  Jas.  A. 
Jackson."  We  have  not  been  able  to  find  out  that 
air.  Next,  to  the  air  of  the  great  war  song  "Tramp, 
Tramp,  Tram]),"  comes  the  first  song  of  one  who  in 
the  early  '70's  was  the  college  poet  best  known — 
George  A.  Baker  of  '68.    Then  J.  R.  S.,  '68.  to  the  air  of 


498  Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y 


"Duncan  Gray"  wrote  a  clever  song  called  "Fortune's 
Ball,"  but  it  was  overshadowed  by  the  next — unfor- 
tunately not  signed.  This  latter,  to  the  West  Point  air 
of  "Benny  Havens,"  we  ought  to  sing: 

ALMA  MATER  O  ! 

We're  gathered  now,  my  classmates,  to  join  our  parting  song, 
To  pluck  from  memory's  wreath  the  buds  which  there  so  sweetly 

throng, 
To  gaze  on  life's  broad,  ruffled  sea  to  which  we  quickly  go; 
But  ere  we  start  we  '11  drink  the  health  of  Alma  Mater  0 ! 

Oh,  Alma  Mater  O !     Oh,  Alma  Mater  0 ! 
But  ere  we  start  we  '11  drink  the  health  of  Alma  Mater  0 ! 

No  more  for  us  yon  tuneful  bell  shall  ring  for  chapel  prayers, 
No  more  to  examination  we'll  mount  yon  attic  stairs; 

Our  recitations  all  are  passed — Alumnuses,   you  know 

We  '11  swell  the  praises  long  and  loud  of  Alma  Mater  O ! 

We  go  to  taste  the  joys  of  life,  like  bubbles  on  its  tide, 

Now  glittering  in  its  sunbeams  and  dancing  in  their  pride; 

But  bubble-like  they  '11  break  and  burst,  and  leave  us  sad,  you 

know, 
There  's  none  so  sweet  as  memory  of  Alma  Mater  0 ! 

Hither  we  came  with  hearts  of  joy,  with  joy  we  now  will  part, 
And  give  to  each  the  parting  grasp  which  speaks  a  brother's 

heart, 
United  firm  in  pleasing  words,  which  can  no  breaking  know, 
For  sons  of  York  can  ne'er  forget  their  Alma  Mater  O! 

Then  brush  the  tear-drop  from  your  eye,  and  happy  let  us  be, 
For  joy  alone  shall  fill  the  hearts  of  those  as  blest  as  we. 
One  cheerful  chorus,  ringing  loud,  we  '11  give  before  we  go — 


Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y.  499 

The  memory  of  college  days  and  Alma  Mater  0! 

Oh,  Alma  Mater  0 !     Oh,  Alma  Mater  0 ! 
Hurrah!  Hurrah!  for  college  days  and  Alma  Mater  0! 

Next  A.V.  P.  of  '68  threw  off  a  little  Latin  jeu  d' esprit 
which  does  credit  to  the  Latin  of  the  day  even  though 
it  were  to  be  sung  to  the  tune  of  the  "  King  of  the  Can- 
nibal Islands."  Then  again  the  "pony"  song  appears, 
and  a  rattling  good  class  song  of  '68,  and  another  of 
'69.  There  are  several  evidently  original  songs  which 
are  not  signed.  Here  is  one  of  them  that  the  boys  of 
19 10  could  sing: 

SHEEPSKIN. 
Air — "  A  Little  More  Cider,  Too." 
When  first  I  saw  a  "sheepskin," 

In  Prex's  hand  I  spied  it; 
I  'd  given  my  hat  and  boots,  I  would, 

If  I  could  have  been  beside  it; 
But  now  th'   examination's  passed, 

I  "skinned"  and  "fizzled"  through; 
And  so  in  spite  of  scrapes  and  flunks, 

I'll  have  a  sheepskin,  too. 

Chorus. 
I'll  have  a  sheepskin,  too, 
I'll  have  a  sheepskin,  too; 
The  race  is  run, 
The  prize  is  won, 
I  '11  have  a  sheepskin,  too. 

Green  boughs  are  waving  o'er  us, 

Green   grass  beneath   our  feet; 
The  ring  is  round,  and  on  the  ground 

We  sit  a  class  complete. 


500  Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y. 

But  when  these  boughs  shall  shed  their  leaves, 

This  grass  be  turned  to  hay, 
We  jolly  souls  who  now  are  here 

"Will  all  be  far  away,      (repeat  twice.) 

In  white  degrees, 

We  '11  take  our  ease, 

And  be  Alumni,  too. 

I  '11  tell  you  what,  my  classmates, 

My  mind  it  is  made  up: 
I  'm  coming  back  three  years  from  this, 

To   take   that   silver   cup. 
I  '11  bring  along  the  "requisite," 

A  little  white-haired  lad, 
With  "bib  and  fixings"  all  complete, 

And  I  shall  be  his  "dad.  "      (repeat  twice.) 

And  you  shall  see 

How  this  "A.B." 

Will  look  when  he's  a  dad. 

The  closing  part  of  the  book  is  devoted  to  the 
'Burial  Songs"  sung  when  the  Free  Academy  was 
buried  and  the  College  of  the  City  of  New  York  was 
born.  C.  O.  K.,  '67,  or  Charles  Kimball,  M.D.,  J.  R.  S., 
'68,  now  known  in  more  stately  form  as  Professor  John 
R.  Sim,  and  G.  A.  B.,  '68,  the  ever-tuneful  Baker,  these 
three  specially  revel  in  the  new-born  babe.  The  King 
was  dead — long  live  the  King. 

FUNERAL   DIRGE. 

We've  laid  her  in  the  silent  tomb, 
And  placed  the  sod  above  her  head; 


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Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y.  503 

Tread    softly  now,    in    sorrow   bow: 
The  Free  Academy  is  dead. 

For  seventeen  years  while  ling'ring  here 
Her  work  she  did,  nor  scorned  to  tread 
In  lowly  paths;  but  now — alas! 
The  Free  Academy  is  dead. 

And  when  in  future  years  we  meet 

With  those  whom  now  we  often  see, 

We  '11  pledge  in  silence  and  with  tears 

The  Xew  York  Free  Academy. 

C.  O.  K.    '67. 

CHRISTENING   SOXG. 

Shout  the  glad  tidings!     exult  till  the  morn! 

The  Academy's  buried,  the  College  is  born! 

Students,  the  story  be  joyfully  telling, 
And   shout   it   aloud  with  music   and   mirth: 

In  glory  and  honor  all  others  excelling 
New  York  City's  College  now  reigns  upon  earth. 

Shout  the  glad  tidings!     exult  till  the  morn! 
The  Academy  's  buried,  the  College  is  born! 

Tell   how  we  waited   in   sad   expectation, 
And  let  the  whole  world  know  the  sorrowful  tale, 

How  patient  we  lingered,  while  Senators  faltered, 
Till  our  joyous  bright  hopes  were  near  ready  to  fail. 

Shout  the  glad  tidings!     exult  till  the  morn! 
The  Academy's  buried,  the  College  is  born! 

But  now  in  the  grave  Academia's  lying; 
And  the  new-born  infant  before  the  world's  eye 

Shall  ever  seem  stronger,  more  bright  and  more  glorious, 
As  the  swift-flashing  current  of  time  doth  roll  by. 

G.  A.  B..  '68. 


504  Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y. 

CHORUS— THERE  IS  A  TIME. 

Air— "Old  Hundred." 

There  is  a  time  for  joy  to  reign, 
For  sorrow  also  there  's  the  same ; 
Then   here  let   no  one   either  shun, 
But   harmonize   them  both  in  one. 

Your  sorrow   show  by  digging  deep, 
By  eyes  bloodshot  for  want  of  sleep : 
But  then  let  joy  your  bosoms  swell, 
To  think  she  's  gone  where  good  folks  dwell. 

J.  R.  S.,  '68. 

This  song-book  shows  a  remarkable  progress.  It 
was  largely  original  and  owed  little  to  other  colleges. 
It  indicated  a  brilliant  class  of  men  and  a  fecundity  of 
rhyme  that  was  far  above  the  average  of  college  verse. 
( )ne  thing  is  noticeable— a  tinge  of  melancholy  per- 
meates the  book.  The  rather  foolish  humor  of  a  later 
day  is  wanting.  It  is  elevated  in  character  and  is  an 
index  to  the  after  life  of  the  men  that  brought  it  forth. 
They  are  earnest  men  to-day — they  were  earnest  then. 

From  1866  to  1877  is  a  long  stride.  What  original 
w<  >rk  was  done  in  those  years  appeared  in  the  various 
college  publications,  the  Budget,  the  Echo,  the 
( 'ollcgian,  or  in  manuscript  form  was  handed  from 
one   to   the   other. 

In  1877  George  E.  Hardy,  '78,  and  E.  E.  Oudin,  '78, 
approached  the  writer  of  this  on  the  subject  of  a  new 
song-book.  Whatever  the  reason,  the  writer  did  not 
officially  participate,  but  was  interested  in  the  publica- 


Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y.  5°5 

tion.  The  little  paper-covered  book  now  before  me 
has  the  owner's  name,  "  Le  Gras,"  on  the  cover.  I 
had  not  seen  a  copy  for  twenty-five  years.  It  is  a 
creditable  production,  though  not  so  elaborately  pre- 
sented as  the  book  of  '68.  George  E.  Hardy,  as  is 
well  known,  was  afterwards  Professor  of  English  at 
the  College.  Eugene  Oudin  went  on  the  stage,  and 
the  magnificent  baritone  of  his  boyhood  days  developed 
into  the  superb  tenor  of  the  McCall  opera  troupe. 

It  opens  with  the  class  song  of  '78,  very  appro- 
priately, to  the  air  of  "Joe  Hardy."  Our  old  friend 
the  "  Life  Preserver ' '  now  appears  signed  ' '  Anon. ' '  The 
fact  that  it  was  published  in  1866  signed  "Free  Acad- 
emy" has  slipped  apart  from  college  knowledge.  I 
would  we  knew  who  that  gallant  soul  was,  whose  song 
looked  just  as  good  in  '77  as  it  had  in  '66.  Peace  to 
him. 

The  class  song  of  '77,  by  E.  H.,  '77,  is  good, 
and  a  "Vive  L' Amour"  for  '78  is  very  stirring. 
The  "Song  of  the  Birds"  again  appears  and  it  shows 
how  strong  its  hold  was  on  the  boys  of  those  fifteen 
years. 

For  the  first  time  the  "Son  of  a  Gambolier"1  ap- 
pears, and  with  it  Henry  E.  Jenkins,  '75,  makes  his 
first   appearance. 

1  Some  years  ago  the  editor  met  on  shipboard  in  mid- Atlantic  a  young 
officer  in  the  Worcestershire  regiment.  Apropos  of  something  or  other, 
the  editor  one  day  whistled  the  "Son  of  a  Gambolier.  "  "  What's  that?" 
said  the  officer  boy.  The  editor  explained.  "Oh,  no!  "  said  the  English- 
man, "that 's  been  the  regimental  march  of  the  Worcestershire  since  "' 

the  editor  forgets  the  prehistoric  date. 


506  Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y. 

SOX  OF  A  GAMBOLIER. 

Once  I  was  a  nobby  youth. 
The  girls  all  called  me  sweet ; 
Some  said  I  was  too  good  to  live 
And  pretty  enough  to  eat. 
But  now  I  'm  old  and  seed}-  grown, 
And  poverty  holds  me  fast, 
The  girls  all  turn  their  noses  up 
"Whenever  I  go  past. 

Chorus. 

Come  join  my  humble  ditty, 

From  Tippery  town  I  steer; 

Like  every  honest  fellow, 

I  drink  my  lager  beer; 

Like  every  honest  fellow, 

I  take  my  whiskey  clear; 

I  'm  a  rambling  rake  of  poverty 

And  the  son  of  a  Gambolier. 

I  'm  the  son  of  a — son  of  a — 

Son  of  a  Gambolier! 

I  'm  the  son  of  a — son  of  a — 

Son  of  a — son  of  a — son  of  a  Gambolier! 

Like  every  honest  fellow, 

I  take  my  whiskey  clear; 

I  'm  a  rollicking  rake  of  poverty, 

And  the  son  of  a  Gambolier. 

If  I  had  a  barrel  of  whiskey, 

And  sugar,  three  hundred  pound, 

The  college  bell  to  put  it  in 

And  the  clapper  to  stir  it  'round, 

I  'd  drink  to  the  health  of  Old  New  York, 

And  spread  it  far  and  near; 


Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y.  509 

I  'm  a  rambling  rake  of  poverty, 

And  the  son  of  a  Gambolier. 

Chorus. 

H.  E.J.,'75- 

The  class  song  of  '80  foretells  what  they  've  suc- 
ceeded in  doing,  and  again  appears  "The  Janitor's 
Song"  from  the  book  of  '66. 

THE  JANITOR'S  SOXG. 
Air — "  Song  of  the  Shirt." 

With  features  sallow  and  grim, 

With   visage  sadly  forlorn. 
The  Janitor  sat  in  the  Janitor's  room, 

Weary,  and  sleepy,  and  worn. 
Tis  a  fact!  fact!  fact! 

He  sat  with  a  visage  long; 
And  still  as  he  sat,  with  a  voice  half  cracked, 

He  sang  this  Janitor's  song: 

"Sweep!  sweep!  sweep! 

In  dirt,  in  smoke,  and  in  dust, 
And  sweep !  sweep !  sweep ! 

Till  I  throw  down  my  broom  in  disgust. 
Stairs,  and  chapel,  and  halls, 

Halls,  and  chapel,  and  stairs, 
Till  my  drowsy  head  on  my  shoulder  falls, 

And  sleep  brings  release  from  my  cares. 

"From  the  very  first  crack  of  the  gong, 
From  the  earliest  gleam  of  daylight, 

Day  after  day  and  all  day  long, 
Far  into  the  weary  night. 


5io  Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y. 

It 's   sweep !   sweep !   sweep ! 

Till  my  broom  doth  a  pillow  seem; 
Till  over  its  handle  I  fall  asleep, 

And  sweep  away  in  my  dream. 

"O  students  of  high  degree, 

(I  scorn  to  address  a  low  fellow) 
O  Seniors  most  reverend,  potent,  and  grave, 

(In  the  words  of  my  Uncle  Othello) 
My  story  's  a  sad  one  indeed, 

Notwithstanding  your  laughter  and  sport; 
My  life  is  naught  but  a  broken  reed, 

And  my  broom  is  my  only  support." 

"With  features  sallow  and  grim, 

With  visage  sadly  forlorn, 
The  Janitor  sat  in  the  Janitor's  room, 

Weary,  and  sleepy,  and  worn. 
It 's  a  fact !  fact !  fact ! 

He  sat  with  a  visage  forlorn, 
And  still  as  he  sat,  with  a  voice  half  cracked, 

He  sang  the  Janitor's  song. 

Next  comes  one  which  is  sung  to  this  day  and  yet 
was  the  result  of  an  accident.  It  was  the  night  before 
the  Senior  examination  in  Higher  Mathematics.  A 
poor  student  had  worked  for  hours  endeavoring  to 
make  up  what  he  had  omitted  to  do  during  the  term. 
Just  before  daylight,  worn  and  weary,  his  brain  filled 
with  the  nomenclature  at  least  if  with  nothing  else  of 
the  science,  he  scribbled  a  few  stanzas  in  contempt  of 
what  he  was  doing. 

A  few  days  later,  when  called  on  for  a  song,  he 


Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y.  511 

handed  this  out.  It  touched  a  tender  chord  in  each 
sad  breast,  was  adopted  as  a  class  song,  and  was  sung 
by  the  class  of  '75  at  its  introduction    to  the  alumni. 

FAREWELL,  YE  COTANGENT  ! 

Farewell  ye  cotangent,  cosecant,  cosine! 

All  the  joys  of  Ecliptics  we  now  must  resign; 

In  the  sphere  of  the  wide  world  we  're  going  to  soar, 

And  the  old  Equinoctial  shall  know  us  no  more. 

Chorus. 
Right  ascensions,  declinations,  zenith  distances  too, 
With  polar  co-ordinates  we  're  entirely  through ; 
Our  hard  work  with  Compton  is  over  and  done, 
And  we  don't  care  a  for  the  spots  on  the  sun. 

Heliocentric,  geocentric,  and  annual  parallax, 
Have  stuffed  our  brains  full  with  their  horrible  fax  (facts) ; 
But  fill  up  your  glasses  and  all  drink  away, 
And  keep  up  your  drinking  for  a  mean  solar  day. 

Chorus. 

Occultations,  eclipses,  and  transits  as  well 
Have  cast  o'er  our  poor  brains  their  magical  spell ; 
But  now  we  Ye  made  a  transit,  and  from  college  are  free, 
And  we  leave  every  planet  to  its  own  majesty. 

Chorus. 

The  moon  is  no  longer  an  object  to  us, 
For  the  transit  of  Venus  we  don't  care  a  cuss: 
Our  fingers  we  snap  in  the  face  of  the  stars, 
And  we  heed  not  Jew-peter,  nor  Venus,  nor  Mars. 

Chorus. 
H.  E.J.,  '75. 

The  "Graduation  Song"  of  Colonel  Gardiner"  59, 


5i2  Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y. 

again  appears.     This  also  seems  to  have  hit  the  boys 
from  '59  to  '77.     So  here  it  is: 

GRADUATION  SOXG. 
Air — "  Litoria." 

Once  more  our  College  Halls  we  throng, 

Swee  de  la  wee  dum  bum, 
To  echo  our  sad  parting  song, 

Swee  de  la  wee  dum  bum ; 
And  greet  the  mates  we  think  most  dear, 

Swee  de  la  wee  chu  hi  ra  sah, 
With  hearty  grasp  and  friendly  cheer, 

Swee  de  la  wee  dum  bum. 

Chorus. 

Litoria,  Litoria,  swee  de  la  we  chu  hi  ra  sah, 
Litoria,  Litoria,  swee  de  la  we  dum  bum. 

Five  years  of  pleasant  toil  and  strife 
Have  filled  the  sum  of  student  life, 
Which  soon  on  life's  tempestuous  sea 
Will  live  alone  in  memory. 

Then  sound  each  voice  in  heartfelt  strain, 
We  re  linked  by  fond  affection's  chain, 
Which  in  the  years  of  swift-winged  fate 
Shall  turn  our  thoughts  to  Seventy-eight. 

And  when  in  after  years  we  meet, 
At  York,  sage  Learning's  chosen  seat, 
Sweet  mem'ries  to  our  hearts  will  come 
Of  days  once  passed  in  College  Home. 

A.  B.  G.,  '59- 

The  book  winds  up  appropriately  with  the  firmly 
established  if  not  particularly  poetical 


Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y.  515 

HERE  'S  TO  N.  Y.  COLLEGE. 

Here  's  to  New  York  College, 
Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down! 
Here  's  to  New  York  College, 
Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down! 
Here's  to  New  York  College, 
For  it 's  there  we  get  our  knowledge, 
Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Drink  it  down,  down,  down. 

Balm   of   Gilead,    Gilead, 
Balm   of    Gilead,    Gilead, 
Balm  of  Gilead,  way 
Down  on  the  Bingo  farm. 

"We  won't  go  there  any  more, 
We  won't  go  there  any  more, 
We  won 't  go  there  any  more, 
Way  down  on  the  Bingo  farm. 

Bingo,  Bingo, 

Bingo,  Bingo, 

Bingo,   Bingo, 

Way  down  on  the  Bingo  Farm. 

B-I-N-G-O. 

We  won't  go  there  any  more. 

We  won't,  etc. 

In  1 88 1  the  editors  of  the  Mercury,  then  just 
founded,  published  two  editions  of  Songs  Which 
Every  Student  Knows,  or  Ought  To.  The  little  gray 
pamphlets  contain  nothing  which  does  not  appear 
in  earlier  song-books. 

The  next  song-book  we  can  find  is  called  the  C.  C. 


5*6  Songs  of  C.  C  N.  Y. 

N.  Y.  Song-Book  and  is  dated  1886.  It  was  compiled 
and  edited  by  Lewis  M.  F.  Haase  and  Charles  K. 
Johansen. 

This  is  almost  a  pamphlet,  and  opens  with  what  the 
last  song-book  closed  with  "Here  's  to N.  Y.  College."  It 
contains  but  little  original  work — one  "  Polly  Wolly 
Doodle,"  signed  J.,  and  a  song  to  C.  C.  N.  Y.  by  T. 
Baumeister,  '87." 

There  's  the  "  Parting  Ode  of  '84  "  by  Julius  Mayer, 
'84,  and  the  "Parting  Ode  of  85"  by  George  B.  Mc- 
Auliffe.  Larremore's  "  C.  C.  N.  Y."  again  appears,  but 
the  author  is  lost  in  the  shuffle  and  it  appears  as 
an<  raymous.  The  class  ode  of  '88  is  by  F.  C.  D.,  '88,  but 
the  remainder  of  the  books  is  made  up  of  old-time 
choruses. 

The  last  book  we  have  been  able  to  see  was  also 
called  the  C.  C.  N.  Y.  Song-Book.  It  was  published 
in  1889  by  E.  G.  Fischlowitz,  William  Abraham,  and 
E.  G.  Alsdorf  of  the  class  of  '89.  It  opens  with  a 
dignified  and  impressive  song  by  D.  A.  H.,  '90,  which 
should  be  preserved: 

SOXG  OF  THE  COLORS. 

Our  country's  stripes  and  stars, 
Its  azure  sky  and  bars, 

These  we  adore. 
This  theme  sublime  and  grand, 
Rings  now  from  strand  to  strand, 
Re-echoes  o'er  the  land, 

"Flag  of  the   free'" 


Songs  ofC.  C.  N.  Y.  5'7 

There,  joining  hand  and  hand, 
Savage  and  white  man  stand — 

Flag  of  our  State. 
Emblem  of  law  and  peace, 
Justice  and  right  for  each, 
In  home  and  school  then  teach, 

Thy  godly  word. 

Back  o'er  thy  early  years, 
Founded    'mid  hopes  and  fears, 

Proudly  we  gaze. 
At  thy  great  work  to-day, 
Our  nation  looks  and  says, 
"Shine  on,  ye  purple  rays, 

In  future  days.  " 

Join  then  this  triune  there, 
Together  float  in  air, 

Our  flags  on  high. 
Liberty,   wisdom,   law, 
Be  watchwords  as  of  yore, 
Guide  thee  forevermore, 

C.    C.    N.    Y. 

T.  Baumeister's  "  C.  C.  N.  Y."  again  appears,  but 
the  book  is  mainly  a  brief  compilation  of  old  college 
choruses.  A  few  selections  found  in  the  earlier  books 
are  presented;  the  authors,  however,  are  seemingly  lost. 
There  's  a  "  Graduation  Song,"  but  it 's  the  one  written 
by  Asa  Bird  Gardiner  of  '59.  The  "pony"  song  of  the 
earlier  books  appears  unfathered  and  Henry  E.  Jenkins, 
'75,  is  represented  by  the  "  Steady  on  the  Bobtail,"  but 
his  memory  is  forgotten  and  the  verses  are  nameless. 


5i8  Songs  of  C.  C  N.  Y. 

These  are  all  the  song-books  we  have  been  able 
to  find,  but  many  of  the  best  songs  of  the  College 
have  been  written  for  publication  in  the  various 
periodicals  that  have  risen  and  fallen  until  the 
Mercury  has  now  established  itself  securely.  Such 
temporary  publicity  as  these  journals  offered  the 
aspiring  lyrist  was  usually  of  briefest  character;  but 
the  following  song  by  Emile  A.  Huber  of  '77  is  too 
good  to  be  lost : 

SONG  OF  '77. 
By  Emile  Andrew  Huber,  Class  Poet. 
To  the  tune  of  "  So  leb'  derm  wohl,  <lu  altes  Haus." 

There  comes  a  murmur  from  the  sea; 
It  strangely  calls  for  you  and  me. 
Our  turn  has  come — we  hear  it   tell ; 
Farewell,  you  yet  that  wait, — farewell. 

Our  turn  has  come,  we  must  away; 
To  where,  for  what — no  man  can  say. 
We  leave  the  port,  we  make  the  main; 
And,  scattering,  may  not  meet  again. 

But  be  we  strong,  and  be  we  stout 
To  dare  the  dark  and  scorn  the  doubt. 
High  let  a  mighty  hope  upswell. 
And  cheerly  ring  the  last  farewell. 

Then  fare  you  well,  old  guardian  hall, 
And  fare  you  well,  my  comrades  all; 
For  weal  or  woe,  for  fair  or  fell, 
God  speed  us  all — farewell — farewell. 

Here   is  a   very  bright   little  bit  which  appeared 


a. 

Q 

S. 

c 
f- 
z 
w 


- 


Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y.  521 

anonymously  in  the  Mercury  at  the  time  when  under 
direction  of  Professor  Doremus,  the  city  authorities 
covered  the  obelisk  in  the  park  with  paraffine  to  pre- 
serve it  from  the  weather : 

THE  LAMENT  OF  THE  OBELISK. 

I   am  crumbling,   Egypt,   crumbling 

In  this  climate  of  the  free, 
And  I  grumble  as  I  crumble, 

That  they  severed  you  and  me. 

And  my  tenderest  thoughts  go  outward 

To  those  centuries  the  while 
That  I  stood  in  perfect  beauty 

And  adorned  the  wending  Nile. 

Gentle  breezes  kissed  my  forehead, 
Fragrant  waters  laved  my  feet, 

And  I  held  the  graven  secrets 
With  a  vigilance  complete. 

But  these  sacrilegious  moderns 

Saw  the  product  of  thy  skill, 
And  their  curious  disposition 

Nerved  a  never-conquered  will. 

I  was  brought  across  the  ocean 

And  erected  here  to  be — 
Oh,  the  shame  of  my  condition: — 

Just  a  curiosity. 

I  am  crumbling,  Egypt,  crumbling, 
Of  my  shame,  accept  this  sign — 

And  they  're  painting  me,  0  Egypt, 
With  some  horrid  paraffine. 


522  Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y. 

Wilbur  Larremore,  "75,  and  above  all  Lewis  Sayre 
Burchard,  '77,  have  been  prolific  contributors  to  the 
College  poetical  life.  Burchard's  work  has  been 
largely  for  alumni  gatherings.  The  Fabregou  dinner, 
the  Compton  jubilee,  and  alumni  meetings  have  been 
enlivened  by  his  witty  and  brilliant  fancies. 

This  is  a  little  "  Marching  Song"  that  ought  to  be 
sung  by  all  the  boys.  The  air  is  taken  from  a  hymn 
much  sung  in  the  public  schools  in  former  years 
and  perhaps  to-day,  and  based  upon  the  refrain  ' '  Ye- 
nite  Adoremus"  of  a  mediaeval  Latin  hymn,  "Adeste 
Fideles." 

SERENADE  MARCHING  SONG. 

Refrain. 

Venite  ad  Doremus 
Et  Vinum! 

Omnes   nunc   cantemus 
On  a  bum. 

Eboraci   Collegio 

Bibendum! 
Gilead-Gilcadi 

Balsamum !  Refrain. 

In  arbore  sederunt 

Nigra?  tres 
Et  "Caw,  caw,  caw!"  clamarunt 

Cornices.  Refrain. 

Non  panem  unquam  damus 

Cum  una 
Maritimi  piscis 

Piluia.  Refrain. 


Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y. 

Prop'   insulas  Canary 

Postremum 
Tristissime  Eumavi 

Cigarum.  Refrain. 

0  veni,  hospes,  imple 

Pateras; 
Noct'  hac  gaudeamus, 

Sobri'  eras.  Refrain. 

Ad  urbe  Tippcrari 

Gressus  sum; 
Filii  gambolieri 

Filius  sum.  Refrain. 

In  ripa  canis;  rama 

In   aqua. 
Feminae,  valete! 

Upida!  Refrain. 

L.  S.  B.,  '77. 


525 


Of  the  following  efforts  of  Burchard's,  the 
Fabregou  verses  and  the  Kiplingesque  lines  about 
Compton  are  not  songs,  but  they  are  printed  here 
because  we  love  the  professors.  "A  Jubilee  Song  for 
'53  "  and  "The  Compton  Jubilee"  should  be  sung  while 
the  College  stands  and  the  boys  have  throats. 


LINES  READ  AT  THE  FABREGOU  DINNER,  MAY  27,  1904. 

(The  "Ancients"  of  the  Class  of  '77  had  Professor  Fabregou  for 
only  one  hour  in  their  entire  College  course.) 

I  sit  upon  the  Boulevards 

And  hear  the  flaneurs  "  parley- voo, " 


524  Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y. 

And  pass  a  few  remarks  myself — 
(I've  had  an  hour  with  Fabregou.) 

The  maitre  d'hotel  with  bow  superbe 

Hands  me  un  magnifique  "menoo"; 
I    pick    bifstek   without    mistake — 

(I  've  had  an  hour  with  Fabregou.) 

I  walk  upon  the  Norman  strand 

And  gaze  in  "eyes  of  Breton  blue"; 
In  course  of  time  I  hold  her  hand — 

Thanks  to  that  hour  with  Fabregou ! 

On    Fourviere's    cathedral'd    height 

I  breathe  these  words:    "  Je  suis  a  vous  /" 

And  other  things  as  pertinent — 
Grace  a  cette  heure  de  Fabregou  ! 

"L'heure  verte"  we   know — the   shading  trees, 

The  frappcd  absinthe's  opal'd  hue, 
The  chat  beguiling  reveries, 
And  memories  drifting  over  seas 

Back  to  that  hour  with  Fabregou. 

But  best  this  golden  hour,  dear  friend, 

When,   rallying  here  for  love  of  you, 
While  tables  ring  from  end  to  end, 
In  tears  and  cheers  old  comrades  spend 

This  last  great  hour  with  Fabregou. 

THE  TALE  OF  THE  JUBILOOTIONER. 

(after  tippling.) 

(A  Variation  on  Kipling's  "Soldier  an'  Sailor  Too,"  The  Seven 

Seas.) 

A-walking  away  from  the  Arion  Club  the  night  of  the  Jubilee, 
I  passed  a  jovial  elderly  gent  a-cheering  for  '53. 


E-       iTt 


Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y.  527 

He  was  sailing  along  both  sides  of  the  road,  and  I  said  to  him 

"Who   are   you?" 
Says  he:  "I'm  a  Jubilootioner,  and  to-night's  the  Jubiloo! 
"  I  'm  one  of  the  Class  of  '53 — there  was  n't  no  '52. 
"There's  nothin'  alive  that's  older 'n  us; — we're  Noah's  original 

crew. 
"We  're  what  you  call  semi-Centurions,  and  to-night 's  the  Jubiloo! 

"We've  been  rloatin'  around  this  small  round  earth  a  matter  of 

fifty  years; 
"There's  me,  and  John   Hardy  (you've    heard  of  him?),   The 

Banta,  and  Jimmy  Steers; 
"And  the  Little  Professor,  in  honor  of  whom  they're  giving  this 

Jubiloo ; — 
"(For  he's  our  Compton,  our  competent  Compton,  scholar  and 

gentleman  too.) 
"He's  the  semi-Centuriest  one  o'  the  bunch — the  cause  of  the 

whole  Hurroo. 
"There's  nothing  too  good  for  him,  I  say — we  gave  'im  the  grand 

bazoo. 
"  He  'sourhyperest,  superest  graduate— scholar  andgentleman  too. 

"I  saw  him  a-sittin'  in  Chellborg's  once,  in  front  of  a  large  round 

bun, 
"  A-stowin'  in  lunch  at  half  past  five,  as  if  it  were  half  past  one. 
"He'd   been   foolin'    'round   after   hours   a  bit,    a-pullin'    some 

engineers  through. 
"(Oh!  that's  our  Compton,   our  competent  Compton — always 

something  to  do.) 
"He  can't  leave  off  when  he  once  begins — (and  thai  's  where  he 

differs  from  you !) 
"  His  daily  job  runs  from  yesterday  till  day-after-tomorrer  at  two. 
"He's    a    kind    o'    perpetsh '1-tuitioner,  puttin'    post-graduates 

through. 


528  Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y. 

" I  called  at  the  President's  Office  once,  when  I  heard  that  they'd 

made  him  Prex — 
' '  A  committee  of  one  from  '53  to  convey  the  boys'  respects; 
"Said  they:  'You'll  find  him  around  the  place;  he  ain't  much 

here  on  view ; 
"(For  he's  our  Compton,  concomitant  Compton — Professor  and 

President  too.) 
"He  may  be  up  in  the  North-East  tower  a-peekin'  his  telescope 

through ; 
"'Or  down  in  the  Workshop  showing  mechanicals  how  to  fashion 

a  screw. ' 
"  He 's  a  sort  of  a  super-Professident — Professor  and  President  too. 

"  He  's  a  good  pedestriosopher,  and  can  do  his  forty  mile; 

"And  a  pianisticophysicist,  and  plays  Chopin  in  style; 

"Anon  he  's  off  to  report  an  eclipse,  or  a  transit  of  Venus  to  view — 

"For  he's  our  Compton,  our  computating  Compton — (him  and 
his  logari'ms  too!) 

"He'll  give  you,  in  mathematical  terms,  the  cause  of  the  rain- 
bow's hue; — 

"It  's  a  wave-length's  somethin'  or  other  squared  that  makes  it 
yellow  or  blue. 

"He's  a  telesco-microscopical  chap — and  full  of  calculi  too. 

"I  took  a  vacation  with  him  one  year — a  sort  of  a  woodland 

tramp — 
"There  was  me,  and   Steers,  and  Charley  Holt; — and  he  'took 

us  into  camp. ' 
"He  caught  all  the  trout  and  made  the  camp  and  paddled  the 

whole  canoe, 
"For  he  was  our  Compton,  our  camp-locating  Compton — a  sage 

and  a  hatchet-man  too. 
"The  trees  had  lamp-post  signs  for  him;  with  guides  he'd   'ave 

nothing  to  do; 


<*> 

.    1 

•Jfe/ 

***** 

-' 

1 

A* 

"*fc- . 

o 

2 


Z      C4 

W    m 

S 
H 

< 


Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y.  531 

"And  I  thought,  if  he  died,  in  the  woods  so  wide,  how  the  deuce 

could  we  ever  get  through? 
"He's  an  Adirondackicographer — guide  and  philosopher  too. 

"No   matter  what  subject   you   tackle  him   on,   from   tennis   to 

literate  >r, 
"  When  he  ain't  a  professional  up  to  the  hilt,  he 's  an  A-i  amat<  »or ; 
"He  can  hablar  in  Spanish,  and  sprechen  in  Deutsch,  and  of  course 

he  can  '  parley- voo ' ; 
"For  he's  our  Compton,  our  comprehensive  Compton,  an  old  and 

a  young  man  too. 
"He  handled  a  Cuban  cocoanut  ranch,   and  pulled  the  whole 

shootin'  match  through, — 
"  (Just  then  he  was  Compton,  non-combatant  Compton — he  had 

to  keep  out  of  the  stew.) 
"Ami  he's  climbed  an  Alpine  summit  or  so,  when  he'd  nothing 

else  to  do; 
"He's  a   multiple-poly-ability-man — there's    nothin    that    feller 

can't  do! 

"  But  when  the  College,  for  all  her  knowledge,  was  sadly  in  want 

of  a  site, 
"  Xon-combatant    Compton    turned    combatant    Compton,    and 

sailed  right  into  the  fight; 
"He  proved  our  centre  of  gravity  moved  to  Convent  Avenoo; — 
"For  he  was  our   Compton,  Committee-man    Compton,  puttin' 

the  Buildin'   Bill  through. 
"And  whether  it's  on  St.  Nicholas  Heights  or  Lexin'ton  Avenoo, 
''  If  ever  there  's  work  for  a  loyal  son  of  our  Mother  Dear  to  do, 
"You  can  count  on  our  Compton,  our  competent  Compton — for 

Captain,  Mate,  or  Crew." 


532  Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y. 

A  JUBILEE  SONG  FOR  '53. 
Air; — "Jolly  Dogs." 

Some  four  and  fifty  years  ago  the  old  Academee 
Set  up  in  biz  with  a  noble  band,  the  Class  of  '53. 

Chorus. 

For  the  '50's  were  so  jolly,  oh!  so  jolly,  oh!  so  jolly,  oh! 

The  '50's  were  so  jolly,  oh!  for  the  Class  of  '53. 

They  Bohned, — they  cribbed, — 

They  flunked,  ha!  ha!  they  flunked,  ha!  ha! 

They  Bohned, — they  cribbed, — 

O!  just  like  you  and  me. 

Jubilee!     Jubila!    (3  times) 

La,  la,  la,  la,  la,  la,  la,  etc. 
Slap!     Bang!  here  they  are  again,  here  they  are  again, 

here  they  are  again. 
Slap!    Bang!  here  they  are  again. 

Hurrah  for  '53! 

When  Compton  was  an  undergrad.,  a  kid  of  5  foot  3, 

He  scooped  most  everything  in  sight,  but  the  Valedictoree. 

Chorus. 

For  he  always  seemed  so  stoojus,  oh!  so  stoojus,  oh! — so 

stoojus,  oh! 
For  he  really  was  so  stoojus,  oh!  in  good  old  '53. 
No  Bohns! — No  cribs! — no  flunks! — oh!  no!    no  flunks— 

oh  !  no ! 
All  io's — no  o's — for  little  A.  G.  C. 

Jubilee!     Jubila!     (3  times) 

La,  la,  la,   etc. 
Fresh!   Soph!     Bully  little  man!  Bully  little  man!    Bully 

little  man! 


t! 

O 

u 

-o 

e/j 

fi 

"o 

3 

X 

u 

o 

- 

ft 

J 

If, 

J 

0 

a 

!/J 

K 

u 

O 

- 

Ph 


Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y.  535 

Straight  Through!     Bully  little  man, 
Of  the  Class  of  '53. 

So  when  his  teachers  turned  him  out,  up  spoke  a  bold  Trustee: 
"We'll  enter  him  for  a  tutorship  to  train  for  the  Facultee. " 

Chorus . 

And  the  Tutor  tutored  very  well,  so  very  well,  so  very  well, 
And  the  Tutor  tutored  very  well 
In  Ancient  Historee. 

He  taught so  much — 

They  made  him  Prof,  they  made  him  Prof — 

He  taught so  much, 

In  the  good  old  Facultee. 

Jubilee!     Jubila!    (3  times) 

La,  la,  la,  etc. 
Toot!    Prof!    Bully  little  Prof !    Bully  little  Prof !    Bully 

little  Prof! 
Toot!     Prof!    Bully  little  Prof! 
In  the  good  old  Facultee. 

Now  after  fifty  glorious  years  of  high  astronomee, 

They  put  him  in  the  Prex's  chair  to  round  up  Naughty  Three. 

Chorus. 

And  he  takes  it  all  so  easy,  oh!  so  easy,  oh!  so  easy,  oh! 

He  takes  it  all  so  easy,  oh !  wherever  he  may  be. 

And  now — for  a  change — we  call  him  Prex: — we  call  him 

Prex. 
And  now — by  Jove!  a  fine  little  Prex  is  he! 
Jubilee !     Jubila  !  (3  times) 
La,  la,  la,  etc. 
Prex!  Prof!  Both  of  'em  at  once;  both  of  'em  at  once; 
both  of  'em  at  once. 


536  Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y. 

Prex!  Prof!  Both  of  'em  at  once. 
And  a  tip  top  "both"  is  he! 

Stand  up,  stand  up,  ye  silvertops  o'  the  Class  of  '53, 

And  hear  us,  ere  we  say  Good  Night,  hurrah  for  Prexy  C. ! 

Chorus. 

May  he  always  be  so  jolly,  oh!  so  jolly,  oh!  so  jolly,  oh! 
May  he  always  be  so  jolly,  oh!  wherever  he  may  be. 
Three   cheers!   Three   cheers!    Hurrah,    hurrah!    Hurrah, 

hurrah ! 
Three  cheers!  Three  cheers!    Hurrah  for  Prexy  C. ! 

Jubilee!     Jubila!     (3  times) 

La,  la,  la,  etc. 
Slap!    Bang!     Hit  'er  up  again!    Hit  'er  up  again!     Hit 

'er  up  again! 
Slap!     Bang!    Hit  'er  up  again! 

Hurrah  for  A.  G.  C. ! 

THE  COMPTON  JUBILEE. 
Air:    "Marching  through  Georgia." 

When  we  went  to  College,  boys,  a  sandy  little  man 
Taught  us  that  the  universe  was  built  on  Bartlett's  plan; 
All  our  heads  could  ever  hold  left  off  where  his  began: 
Compton,   our  Compton   forever! 

Chorus: 

Hurrah!     Hurrah!     From  eighteen  fifty-three, 
Hurrah!    Hurrah!    'Way   down    to  "  Naughty-three, " 
For  fifty  years  of  solid  work  we  sing  the  Jubilee 
Of  Compton,  our  Compton  forever! 

He  taught  us  how  the  waves  of  sound  came  booming  through 

the  air; 
He  taught  us  all  the  coy  delights  that  lurk  in  "•,  r2"; 


Acting  President  of  the  College,  1902-1903. 


537 


Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y.  539 

He  never  threw  no  tens  around,  but  always  marked  us  fair, 
Did  Compton,  our  Compton  forever! 

Chorus: 

Hurrah!  (hip)   Hurrah!   (hip)   The  old  Academee! 
Hurrah!  (hip)   Hurrah!  (hip)  The  good  old  Facultee! 
Doremus,  Woolf ,  and  Werner  dear,  and  likewise  Dochartee 
And  Compton,  our  Compton  forever! 

We  seen  him  work  the  panel-game,  explaining  of  the  skies; 
We  seen  him  at  the  bakery,  consuming  cakes  and  pies; 
He  was  a  wise  Professor  once — they  made  him  superwise, — 
Compton,  our  Compton  forever! 

Chorus: 

Hurrah !     Hurrah !     Hurrah !  for  Prexy  C. ! 
Hurrah!     Hurrah!     The  pride  of  '53! 
He  taught  the  boys  for  fifty  years,  so  now  it's  Jubilee 
For  Compton,  our  Compton  forever! 

We'll  have  a  new  Commander  soon  to  lead  us  in  the  fight, 
When  Alma  Mater  takes  her  stand  on  yonder  castled  height ; 
But  fifty  years  he 's  been  in  front — we  '11  cheer  for  him  to  night 
For  Compton,  our  Compton  forever! 

Chorus: 

Hurrah!    (hip)    Hurrah!    (hip)    Hurrah!   for  A.    G.   C. ! 
Hurrah!  (hip)  Hurrah!  (hip)  We  shout  his  Jubilee! 
There's  fifty  years  of  solid  work  been  done  for  you  and 
me 

By  Compton,  our  Compton  forever. 

This  covers  the  song  work  of  C.  C.  N.  Y.  as  re- 
vealed by  its  published  works.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that 
some  one  will  compile  and  edit  what  has  been  produced 


54Q  Songs  of  C.  C.  N.  Y. 

since  1890,  and  with  what  is  known  from  the  past  one 
good  big  creditable  song  book  could  be  made  for  the 
use  of  future  generations  of  C.  C.  N.  Y. 


Adspice 

The  College  of  the  Present 


541 


The  College  of  the  Present 

John  Huston  Finley,  President  of  the 
College 

u  '""PHERE  is  an  instinctive  sense,"  says  Emerson 
in  his  essay  on  Politics,  "that  the  highest 
end  of  government  is  the  culture  of  men,  that  if 
men  can  be  educated,  the  institutions  will  share  their 
improvement  and  the  moral  sentiment  will  write  the 
law  of  the  land."  That  instinctive  sense  has  found 
splendid  expression  in  the  State  universities,  and  not- 
ably in  this  the  first  of  municipal  colleges.  Whatever 
the  shortcomings  of  democratic  government  in  States 
or  cities  may  be,  there  is  reason  for  abiding  hope  so 
long  as  the  citizens  of  these  States  or  cities  give  sincere t 
intelligent,  and  generous  support  to  institutions  for 
the  culture  of  men. 

And  this — the  culture  of  men — is  distinctly  the 
object  of  our  College;  it  is  not  to  make  doctors  and 
lawyers,  nor  even  teachers,  writers,  and  scientists; 
it  is  first  of  all  to  give  young  men,  through  guidance 
and  discipline,  access  to  the  riches  of  the  race's  ex- 
perience, not  for  the  mere  earning  of  a  livelihood  but 

543 


544  The  College  of  the  Present 

for  the  ennobling  of  life,  and  then  to  beget  or  strengthen 
in  them  the  will  to  bring  that  enriched  life  to  the 
bettering  of  the  life  of  the  community,  the  State. 

I  have  often  made  this  summation  of  its  functions: 
to  teach  men  the  truth,  to  teach  them  how  to  tell  it, 
and  then  develop  in  them  the  desire  always  to  speak 
it;  because  there  are  many  men  who  cannot  tell  the 
truth  for  one  at  least  of  three  reasons:  either  they  do 
not  know  it,  or  knowing  it  do  not  wish  to  tell  it,  or 
knowing  it  and  wishing  to  tell  it  know  not  how.  So 
I  have  written  under  our  old,  fine  motto,  another:  "  Vir, 
Veritas,  Vox," — the  man,  the  truth,  and  the  voice  to 
speak  it. 

But  in  what  is  this  our  College  peculiar,  distinctive, 
among  the  colleges,  in  its  aim,  character,  or  scope? 

First,  it  is  the  only  great  urban  institution  of 
pure  collegiate  type  in  this  country.  The  American 
college  has,  as  a  rule,  been  planted  and  nourished  in 
the  quiet  of  the  country,  or  has,  in  its  growth,  been 
surrounded  by  village,  town,  or  small  city.  But  with 
the  development  of  the  great  cities  has  come  the  need 
of  the  urban  college,  since  thousands  of  young  men 
and  women  would  be  deprived  of  all  chance  of  a 
higher  education,  except  for  such  provision.  The 
country  college  is  no  less  needed  now  than  in  the  past, 
but  for  the  reason  that  the  future  of  this  democracy 
is  increasingly  dependent  upon  the  great  urban  popula- 
tions, it  is  of  increasing  importance  that  these  should 
be  informed  of  that  spirit  and  intelligence  which  it  is 


545 


The  College  of  the  Present  547 

the  mission  of  the  college  to  help  bring.  There  is  in  >\v 
a  university  in  every  great  city,  but  our  College  is 
unique  in  that  it  is  the  only  urban  institution  of 
purely  collegiate  character  and  aim — and  it  is  one 
of  the  largest  of  the  class  of  colleges. 

Second,  it  is  the  only  higher  educational  institu- 
tion supported  entirely  by  a  city.  Many  States  with 
a  population  varying  from  a  few  hundred  thousand 
to  four  millions  provide  a  collegiate  (and  even  pro- 
fessional) training  wholly  or  partly  at  the  public 
expense,  but  New  York  City  is  the  first  of  ail  the  cities 
to  make  such  provision,  a  provision  more  generous 
than  is  made  by  any  other  city  of  the  world,  though  it  is 
exceeded  by  many  of  our  States  of  smaller  population. 

Third,  it  sends  out  a  larger  proportion  of  its  gradu- 
ates to  teach  in  the  public  school  than  any  other  college 
of  liberal  arts  and  sciences.  This  gives  it  a  peculiarly 
important  function  in  the  city's  life,  for  there  is  no 
higher  service  that  it  can  perform  for  the  city  than 
thoroughly  to  train  in  body,  mind,  and  spirit  the  men 
who  are  to  be  in  turn  the  teachers  of  the  city's 
vouth. 

Fourth,  it  maintains  its  own  preparatory  depart- 
ment and  so  has  under  its  immediate  supervision  the 
training  of  most  of  the  students  who  enter  the  College. 
This  plan  has  great  advantages  in  that  there  is  no 
waste  or  loss  of  time.  The  College  is  one  of  the  few 
institutions  which  make  it  possible  for  the  student  to 
proceed  without  serious  break  in  his  course  from  the 


54$  The  College  of  the  Present 


& 


gate  of  the  elementary  school  to  his  degree.  Whatever 
disadvantage  there  is,  comes  from  the  association  of 
college  and  preparatory  students  in  such  physical 
relationship  that  they  must  be  under  one  discipline. 
The  growth  of  the  collegiate  department  "will  in  time 
make  their  dissociation  practicable.  It  is  to  be  noted 
with  gratification  that  the  high  schools  of  the  city, 
under  the  new  plan  of  promotions  recently  adopted, 
will  enable  the  student  in  these  schools  to  conform 
more  nearly  to  the  requirements  of  the  College,  and 
there  is  reason  to  expect  that  the  College  will  in  the 
near  future  come  into  closer  and  more  efficient  re- 
lationship with  all  the  post-elementary  schools  sup- 
ported by  the  city. 

These  conditions  peculiar  to  the  College  give  it  a 
unique  place  among  the  colleges  of  America.  It  is  a 
temperate  statement  that  no  college  has  a  work  at 
its  hands  more  vital  than  has  this  College.  Standing 
at  the  place  where  Europe  is  ' '  stepping  up  into  Amer- 
ica," as  Mr.  Bryce  put  it  on  the  day  when  he  visited 
the  College,  it  has  a  peculiar  task  and  one  upon  whose 
efficient  doing  the  maintenance  of  the  ideals  of  this 
people  in  some  good  measure  depends. 

But  I  may  not  look  forward,  as  I  may  not  recount 
the  unheralded,  unostentatious  service  of  those  into 
whose  labors  we  have  entered,  those  men  who  have 
met  one  of  the  cardinal  requirements  of  the  ideal 
teacher  in  their  "readiness  to  be  forgotten."  I  must 
keep  to  the  present. 


u 


Annex  at  Number  200  East  Twenty-third  Street. 


549 


The  College  of  the  Present  551 

The  men's  colleges  of  the  day  are  under  great  pres- 
sure from  the  demands  of  the  material,  the  commercial, 
the  so-called  practical;  but  this  College  is  stoutly 
maintaining  its  cultural  ideals.  It  gives  such  elec- 
tives  in  the  later  years  of  the  courses  as  will  let  young 
men  go  in  the  direction  of  certain  professions;  it  has 
one  building  devoted  to  the  mechanical  arts;  it  has  also 
the  best  equipped  chemical,  physical,  and  biological 
laboratories;  but  the  courses  in  liberal  arts  and  in  the 
foundations  of  science  are  dominant.  The  College, 
appreciating  the  temptations,  the  obtrusiveness  of  the 
nearer — the  economic — environment,  is  ever  emphasiz- 
ing the  importance  of  the  wider,  the  environment  of 
the  race's  highest  and  farthest  progress. 

And  there  are  no  special  students,  no  special  courses. 
The  result  is  that  there  is  a  body  of  sturdy  students 
who  make  their  college  work  their  chief  occupation, 
though  many  of  them  are  under  such  economic  con- 
ditions as  to  be  obliged  to  contribute  to  their  own  sup- 
port while  studying.  There  is  little  dawdling  or 
trifling  or  dissipating.  The  day's  work  is  exacting; 
the  sections  are  kept  at  such  a  size  that  the  teacher 
may  know  all  his  pupils  and  personally  guide  them; 
the  general  mien  of  the  students  is  serious,  perhaps 
too  serious  ;  the  teachers  make  teaching  their  main 
productive  work.  The  total  requirement  is  probably 
not  exceeded  by  any  other  college.  While  the  College 
now  prescribes  substantially  the  same  conditions  for 
admission   as  other  colleges,  it  requires   four  years   of 


552  The  College  of  the  Present 

residence  and  eighteen  credit  hours  per  week  through 
those  four  years  as  compared  with  fifteen  in  many. 

The  College  has  lacked  the  benefits  of  campus  life. 
Even  daily  or  frequent  assemblies  of  the  entire  student 
body  have  not  been  physically  possible.  But  with 
the  removal  to  the  new  buildings,  some  of  the  ad- 
vantages of  the  country,  dormitory  college  will  be 
had.  A  campus  of  some  size,  high  above  the  city, 
with  parks  about;  a  concourse  for  the  gathering  of 
small  groups  of  students,  a  commons,  a  gymnasium, 
and  a  great  hall  for  daily  assemblies  will  give  the 
students  and  teachers  some  of  the  op]  >ortunities  for 
the  development  of  a  community  life  now  wanting, 
and  the  cultivation  of  a  stronger,  more  ardent  college 
spirit. 

The  best  word  that  can  be  said  for  our  democracy 
is  that  which  describes  the  provision  which  is  made 
for  the  education  and  especially  the  higher  education 
of  its  youth.  There  is  no  nobler  conceit  of  our  civili- 
zation than  that  which  has  expression  in  our  College 
— an  institution  through  which  one  generation  seeks 
to  make  its  experiences  the  disciplines  of  the  next,  its 
best  but  unrealized  hopes  the  achievements  of  those 
who  come  after.  The  responsibility  that  falls  to  such 
a  body  of  teachers  is  great  beyond  measure,  but  the 
opportunity  is  commensurate  with  the  responsibility. 
It  is  a  sacred  office  and  task  into  which  they  have 
come.  There  is  no  higher  ministry.  And  it  is  es- 
pecially fitting  that  the  House  of  this  ministry  is  set 


The  College  of  the  Present  555 


'& 


on  the  Heights,  above  the  city,  not  only  that  the  people 
may  look  up  to  it  out  of  their  labors,  but  that  those 
who  teach  and  study  there  may  ever  keep  the  hopes 
and  the  needs  of  this  great  city  in  their  eyes  and  their 
thoughts.     My  word  is  ' '  Ads  pice. " 


Prospice 

The  College  of  the  Future 


;;- 


The  College  of  the  Future 

Edward   Morse  Shepard,  '69 

A  ND  now,  the  future  of  this  College  of  the  City, 
of  this  Cherishing  Mother  of  our  own— what 
is  her  future  to  be?  Who  can  tell?  Lest  you  think  I 
dream  I  hardly  dare  put  into  words  the  full  vision 
which  I  see,  and  see  clearly  and  surely,  during  years 
which  are  to  come.  In  her  future,  the  organized 
City  of  the  future  will  itself  have  a  great  part — the 
City  with  its  ever  and  vastly  increasing  wealth,  its 
steadily  improving  ideals  of  public  affairs  and  duties  of 
citizenship  overcoming  the  corruptions  and  dangers  of 
that  wealth,  its  larger  and  larger  place  of  power  in  the 
American  nation,  its  larger  and  larger  loyalty  to 
education  as  a  crowning  civic  service  and  glory. 
Yes,  the  City,  democratic  in  the  strict  equality  of  the 
rights  and  privileges  of  its  citizens,  and  imperial  only 
in  the  range  and  magnitude  of  its  useful  beneficences, 
will  help  make  the  future  of  the  College.  A  second 
and  a  still  greater  share  will  belong  to  the  spirit 
of  the  citizenship  of  the  New  York  that  is  to  be,  to 
its  fiery  and  avid  zeal   for  the  personal  strength  and 

559 


560  The  College  of  the  Future 


&' 


might  brought  by  intellectual  discipline,  by  well 
ordered  and  seemly  knowledge.  That  zeal  already 
rules  the  multifarious  strains— national,  racial,  social, 
religious— which,  in  this  fusing  alembic  of  the  metro- 
polis, are  now  deeply  modifying,  and,  we  hope,  en- 
riching, the  English-speaking  stock  upon  the  foundation 
of  which  American  life  is  built.  Yes,  the  very  char- 
acteristics of  the  race  of  America's  future,  that  race 
to  be  more  truly  American  than  any  race  America  has 
yet  known,  that  race  which,  in  the  making  of  it,  is 
seen  at  New  York  as  nowhere  else,  will  gratefully 
support  and  mould  the  College  of  the  future.  And 
thirdly,  and  nobler  even  than  the  share  in  that  future 
due  to  the  City  itself  or  to  the  intellectual  thirst  of 
its  coming  people,  will  be  the  share  which  moral  in- 
tegrity and  patriotism  shall  have  in  future  scholarship. 
For  they,  I  profoundly  believe,  will  be  the  dominating 
authoritv  over  the  affairs  of  our  City  and  our  land. 
There  can  be  with  us — and  that  is  well — no  sectarian 
instruction;  but  all  the  more  for  that,  it  will  be  a 
great  duty  of  our  part  in  the  future  scholarship  of 
America  to  end  the  divorcement  of  the  wits  from  the 
morals  of  men.  Yes,  this  College  of  ours  will  abide 
secure  in  the  hearts  and  convictions  of  the  coming 
New  York  because  her  profoundest  teaching  shall  be 
that  Righteousness  exalteth  a  Nation. 

When,  sixty  years  ago,  the  College  was  founded, 
her  students  came  from  a  city  of  450,000  people; 
to-day  they  come  from  a  city  of  4,150,000  people — 


•  -  - 


rhe  College  of  the  Future  563 


almost  ten  times  as  many.  Her  students  to-day,  four 
thousand  in  number,  are  more  than  ten  times  as  many 
as  they  were  when,  in  1853,  her  first  class  graduated. 
Who  dares  say  what  will  be  the  population  of  the  city 
sixty  years  hence.  Long,  very  long,  before  the  class 
of  1967  prepare  their  Commencement,  our  academic 
students — even  if  there  were  no  other  reason — must, 
because  the  spacious  and  sightly  buildings  now  almost 
finished  and  the  terraced  site  on  which  they  stand  will 
not  hold  them,  go  to  separate  high  schools  which  we 
may  hope  will  find  in  the  College  their  true  and  efficient 
guardian  and  guide.  Long  before  the  time  shall  be 
ripe  for  President  Finley's  emeritus  presidency,  the 
Freshman,  Sophomore,  Junior,  and  Senior  classes  of  the 
College  will  outnumber  any  single  body  of  college 
students  in  our  country  or  in  the  world.  But  it  is 
not  her  numbers  which  will  then  be  her  glory ;  rather 
will  numbers  represent  the  noble  privilege  of  her 
burdens — the  wonderful  scope  of  her  influence  and 
her  duty.  Though  the  College  is  not  to  be  an  uni- 
versity, we  mean  that  no  university  shall  better  or 
more  powerfully  help  and  direct  American  life  than 
shall  our  College.  In  that  future  day  we  mean  that  no- 
where— the  world  over — shall  what  makes  up  a 
liberal  education,  general  but  not  technical,  be  better 
taught  to  the  extent  to  which  the  young  man  must 
learn  it  if  he  would  turn  to  the  special  master}-  of 
any  career  for  which  intellectual  discipline  is  necessary. 
That  education  will  include  the  languages  and  literatures 


564  The  College  of  the  Future 

of  ancient  and  modern  civilizations  with  all  their 
humanities  and  gracious  inspiration,  the  rigorous 
reasonings  of  mathematics  and  its  beautiful  and 
world-ruling  applications,  the  sciences  of  mankind 
and  of  the  earth  beneath  and  the  heavens  above,  the 
share  which  the  arts  of  beauty  ought  to  have  in  the 
life  of  the  educated  citizen,  the  histories  of  the  living 
past  with  lessons  to  the  living  present,  the  fields  of 
government  and  laws  and  the  economies  of  man's 
subsistence,  and  the  reasonings  of  divine  philosophy 
herself.  Within  years  which  some  now  living  will  see, 
St.  Nicholas  Heights  will  not  hold  the  students  of  our 
College;  buildings  as  great  must,  for  her  crowding 
ranks,  be  added  to  those  which  have  now  been  reared  at 
so  much  pains  and  cost.  The  students  of  the  College 
as  they  leave  her  Senior  classes,  or  sooner  perhaps, 
under  compulsion  of  res  angusta  domi,  forego  the 
crowning  witness  of  the  bachelor's  degree,  will  overflow 
into  the  life  of  the  city,  of  the  State,  and  of  the  Nation, 
so  that  the  American  people  beyond  the  Greater  New 
York,  no  less  than  the  Americans  within  its  borders, 
shall  call  her  blessed. 

If  all  this,  O  Brother  Alumni,  be  rhapsody,  is  it 
not  the  rhapsody  of  truth  ?  If  the  feet  of  the  alumnus 
stand  truly  and  firmly  on  the  ground,  ought  not  his 
head  to  strike  the  stars?  If  we  do  not  overpass  in 
the  present  of  our  work  and  achievements  what  is 
wise  and  sound  and  within  the  knowledge  and  accom- 
plishment of  common  life,  is  it  not  helpful  to  realize — 


The  College  of  the  Future  565 

though  but  dimly — the  career  which,  if  her  children 
and  her  friends  be  faithful  to  her,  as  surely  they  will 
be,  the  Almighty  offers  this  College  of  our  service 
and  devotion. 


THE    END 


